I'm not a Lady
by arahadi
Summary: a feminist v.s one persistent George Luz. Who will win?
1. Chapter 1 - Becca

"Davey?"

"Oh my goodness…Becca?"

David Kenyon Webster, handsome as ever, rushes to me and hugs me tight. We haven't met since he enlisted to be a Paratrooper. That's almost two years ago. And what the odds that we meet again here in Aldbourne, thousand miles away from home.

"God…Becca…what are you doing here? You're leaving Harvard?" He looked at me. Appraising me from head to toe.

"Want to start the revolution, Dave. Fight for your country is not just the monopoly of men, you know."

"Yeah…but…"

"Don't start with that women-help-at-home-front bullshit, Dave. I've heard enough from my Mother. And I thought you know me better." I raised my eyebrow and cross my hand in front of me. The usual pose that makes David never wins arguing with me.

"Hey, Webster…you don't want to introduce us to the little lady?" A relatively-short man (well at least compared to the other Paratrooper) with mischievous eyes approaches us. I've seen him playing dart with the extremely-tall-and-blond Lieutenant earlier when I was entering the bar.

"Oh…hi Luz…this is Rebecca Jones. She's my childhood friend and we both were in Harvard, but she's taking History."

"Impressive. Hello, Ma'am. Pleasure to meet you. I'm George Luz. You can call me George." He shakes my hand and kisses it. Hmm… suave.

"Call me Becca. And by 'us' you mean…?"

Luz jerks his head towards a table that consist of three men grinning at us. David groans.

"Oh…shut it, Davey. I assured you, I'm not here for looking for a husband, and I'll be fine. What…do you think your friends over there will jump at every single woman that passed them?"

"Yeah, Davey…" Luz teases him "We just want to know your lady friend here."

Luz leads me to the table and David finally follows suit.

"Gents, this is Becca. Webster's childhood friend. Becca, that Italian is Bill Guarnere, you can call him Bill or Gonorrhea, depends on your mood. That red-headed-baby is Babe Heffron; he despised his given name, so we all oblige to call him Babe. Although we don't think he's that adorable. Bill and Babe are from South Philly so they're joined in the hips, basically. And this extra-tall-and-extra-blond Lieutenant is Lieutenant Lynn Compton. We call him Buck. I would like to call him the Poster Boy of the Aryan Race. But that will be too Nazi."

I smile to them and say directly to George "And from your derogatory explanation about them, I can assume you're the company clown."

Bill's laugh is the loudest. "I like your sassy-ness, Doll. You'll survive in South Philly anytime."

I winced "Ugh…Please don't call me Doll, or sweetums or the likes. I hate that."

David cuts in "She's a feminist." And the men whistle.

"I'm not that radical, Dave. But…yeah…I'm not that housewivey-and-braid-each-other-hair type of girl."

Babe looks a little disappointed but George looks…beaming. It's like he labels me with 'Challenge' right in my forehead.

"So Becca…what are you doing here?"

I shrug "WAC. What else? I'm the embedded translator and staff for Colonel Sink. Just transferred 3 days ago."

Babe says "You're not…um…upset with the rumors about WAC?"

"What? That we're sexually immoral? That we will distract the soldiers in the frontline? Ha! I believe those rumors were said by soldiers who afraid that their masculinity would be devalued, while they paint each other toe-nails and gossiping like housewives in their fucking foxholes." I answer heatedly.

I really hate that most of the soldiers at this time is strongly opposed women involvement in warfare. Those sexist bastard slandering the WAC by said that we're lesbians and prostitute. And that our uniform was widely copied and used by 'Victory Girls' (thrill-seeking local teen girls who slept with servicemen), is not helping either. When I met those 'loose girls' in bars or other places, I usually slap them silly, literally and figuratively.

And then I realized that the men gapped at me…along with the rest of the men in the bar, actually. Oops…I think I said that out loud. David hides his grin with his hand by scratching his nose. He knows me too well.

But then Bill and George pat my shoulder, laughing.

George says "You are officially adopted as Easy Company honorary member."

I raised my eyebrows "And that will be an honor because….?"

"Shit…we're the best damn Company in the ETO, woman! I mean…Becca" George hurriedly corrects when he saw my not-amused-expression on the term. And then he continues "Why do you think Webster here ask for transfer from his company. He's bored his ass off, right Web?"

David nods "Yeah…not so much to do in HQ. So how's your college, Bec? I'm sure your mother is not happy with this."

"Well…Harvard can wait, Dave. And mother keeps pushing me to get married...so either this or trapped with some snob who begs his parents not to get drafted."

"So…no boyfriend, then?" George asks

"Your deduction can make Sherlock Holmes crying in shame." I answer dryly.

The men grin at me and George.

"Have you kissed this Webby here?"

David makes a strangled yelp "Jesus! You are shamelessly persistent."

George shrugs "Just testing the water."

"Tomayto –Tomahto" I deadpanned. "Yes I have, actually. Out of curiosity. In High School. And it's like kissing my brother. I've known Dave since we're in diapers. Our mothers are in the same 'Society', if you know what I mean. You know, I've seen his junk in various states; I don't think I could feel embarrassed anymore." I shrug and sip my beer.

David only managed to shout "Hey" and his face is as red as tomato.

We all laugh loudly at his face.

"So you will jump with us to Holland, Becca?" Babe asks.

"If the Colonel jump, I'll jump. Just following order, aren't we?"

"And your Godfather will want you to tag along, I presume." David mumbles.

This time, it's my turn to groan. Colonel Sink and my father has been best friend since…I don't know when. And Uncle Bob is the one who makes me want to join the Army on the first place. My Dad need a lot of time to be convinced but finally he gave his permission after he made me promise to stay close to Uncle Bob and return to Harvard as soon as the war is over. I think he hoped that I will fail the basic training and crying back home. Much to his dismay, I inherited his stubbornness and determination, so long story short, his plan was backfired and here I am. David knows that Colonel Sink is my Godfather and since he's kinda smart, he easily conclude that I got that position due to Uncle Bob. Which is honestly I want to keep secret as long as I can.

"You're the Colonel's Goddaughter?" Buck asks incredulously.

"Er…yeah. But I passed the basic training in flying colors, mind you. And I really appreciate if you guys keep this secret."

"You're getting harder and harder to reached, don't you Becca. College girl, society princess, and now the Colonel's Goddaughter" George says wistfully "And here I am…can only looking at you from far far away…because there's no way in hell a boy from Rhode Island can make you his wife." He exhales exaggeratedly.

Bill and Babe grin and pat his back, offering false support. Buck almost snorts in his beer from hearing George's blatant flirting. David just shakes his head.

And me? I admit it's kinda sweet, but thank goodness I'm able to keep my blush to creeping up my cheek and say patronizingly to George "Aww…Georgie…don't give up hope. There's a reason why there's a fairy tale called 'The Princess and the Frog'."

George blinks twice before says "Are you saying…that I'm a frog?"

We all laugh because George's face is so comical and looked like a human puppy.

I barely catch my breath before saying "Oh…George…you should see your face. You remind me of my Labrador puppy."

This makes us laugh harder but George joins us this time.

He grins at me and says "Anything to make you laugh like that, Princess."

This time, I feel my face grow warm and I hastily hide my grin in my glass, pretending to sip my beer. I even forgot to feel annoyed he called me Princess.


	2. Chapter 2 - George

A/N: Thanks K-yers and BobtheFrog for the reviews. Hope you like this one ^_^

* * *

Paratroopers are gossiping like high school girls before Prom Night. The only difference is the utterances of "fuck" per minute. Liebgott, for example, utters 3.56 fucks per minute which is Easy's highest record to date.

"Who the fuck is this broad I'm hearing, Luz? And why the fuck you're not introduce her to me? Un-fucking-believable."

See?

"And give her psychological trauma for the rest of her life with your…profanities?"

"Hey! I can be suave and shit."

"Yeah…right…if your definition of suave is invading personal space and swaying your hips in certain way to anything with a hole."

"Hey fuck you!"

It's so easy provoking him.

"Kidding, Joe. Jesus! It's not your time of the month yet and you're already twisting your skivvies. No no no…don't hit me, ya shithead! Okaaaay…okaaay…Her name is Becca. She's not overly pretty but she has class, she's smart and her laugh is like…Wham! Happy?!"

"Is George Luz falling in love?" The Hebrew bastard is grinning his widest shit-eating grin.

"N-No…not like that…" Shit! Why the hell I have to stutter like a retard?! I was…intrigued by her…but not falling in love.

Am I?

"Oh..pleaaase…you blatantly flirting with her and you were as good as asking her to marry you, for Pete's sake. Subtle, George…Veeery subtle." Bill shouts from his bunk.

I really want to kill Bill fucking Guarnere right about now.

"I did not ask her to marry me, asshole. I just…I was trying to be friendly." I try not to sound too petulant but failed miserably. Fuck! Note to self: find any blunt spoon or some shit to kill Bill and Joe later.

"Jesus, George! What's with this high-school-boy-in-crush act?! Holy shit! You really like her, don't ya?!" And Bill is fucking guffawed right now. Joe looks like Hanukah comes early.

"Who likes who?" Frank and the rest of Easy enter the barrack. Oh for fuck's sake!

"George likes Becca…that pretty broad in the bar last night. Remember? Pretty face, feminist, Web's friend…Sink's Goddaughter."

"You supposed to keep that Goddaughter part a secret, you obtuse fucktard." I yelled to Bill.

Bill pulls his "Oops"-face which is so not convince-able. True to his nickname, if Bill got something, he will fucking spread it to others like some vicious venereal disease.

Frank looks at me and says "Oh…yeah…I remember her. Wait…She's Sink's Goddaughter? And you like her? Are you having a death wish or something? But… if you dead, can I have your toothbrush? I need spare, you know." my midget of a friend said that with serious face.

And the rest of the men laugh at me. What the fuck is this…Come-Laugh-at-George Day? I'm the Company Clown, godammit * _as Becca smartly conclude…Okay…stop thinking about her for a second, will ya!_ *. So it should be me who make people laugh at other people.

"Fuck you, guys! I wanna smoke." And I walked out. The men still laughing and I bet my ass that Bill already open a bet about me and Becca. Some friend.

* * *

I inhale my third cancer stick and flick the stub to the ground. This is my favorite spot; far from the barracks. I can think clearly in here. Privacy is a luxury for soldiers. You can't even shitting peacefully, let alone to think about your priority, which is right now, is how not to think about Becca.

"I thought only me who know about this place"

Holy shit! Thinking about Becca evidently makes my situational awareness slip so badly; I had not notice someone approaching. _You called yourself an elite Paratrooper, Luz?_

And it's like the universe conspired a joke on me, lo and behold…it's the Princess herself.

Unfortunately, I jerked in surprise and shout the most undignified curses I've ever said.

"Jesus fucks a monkey! How the fu…I mean…God…Becca? I didn't hear…Shit!"

Note to self: use the aforementioned blunt spoon to kill myself after killing Bill and Joe.

And she laughs like she never laughs before. Gasping for breath, crouching and holding her tummy…shits like that.

It's adorable, actually, if she's laughing at someone else. But since she's laughing at me, it needs an immediate corrective action.

"Glad I can make you laugh again, Princess." Thank goodness it's night or she can see I'm blushing like a teenager _. Fucking calm yourself, George._

She's taking several deep breaths to calm herself. When she's finally able to stop her laugh, she says "That was the most original thing I've ever heard. I like you, George Luz. You always make me laugh."

Note to self: unkill myself.

How the fuck she can think that she can say she likes me nonchalantly without making me feels like I want to dance my winning dance. But…maybe she just like me as a friend. Ah…well, we have to make do, don't we? At least she didn't think I'm a shithead.

 _And don't blush, George! Don't fucking blush! Ah Shit! Man-up, will ya!_

"Yeah…well…thank you?" Note to brain: unfuck yourself!

"So...what are you doing here, George?"

Ohhhhh…thank goodness she changes the topic. Okay…ooze the charm, Luz.

"Thinking about 27 ways to kill Bill and Joe." _That's not exactly a charming thing to say to a girl, dumbass!_

"Really? Why?"

Because they know I like you.

"Just for brain exercise." I shrug. "And you? What are you doing here? It's late, you know?"

And her face falls just slightly "I just…want to distance myself from one sexist human being."

"Talk to Joly Old Saint Luz, my dear child."

She fucking smiles. A smile that makes me want to hug all the cute things in this world.

"Well…I have this jump instructor…in Chilton Foliat…"

"Wait…wait…wait…please don't say that his name is Sobel."

"You know him?"

"That son of a bitch…forgive my French… is our ex-CO, back in Toccoa."

"How the hell you can survive that guy?"

"By some miracle, apparently. So what happened?"

"He's signed back to the 506th, you see. Replacing Salve Matheson as the regimental S-4 officer."

"Logistic?"

"Yeah…for our…um…next campaign in Holland. And we bump each other outside the Colonel's office. And he said this things…"

"What things?" Note to self: Thinking about 51 ways to kill Sobel that involves blunt weaponry and cattle prod.

"It's just…I…well…there's a lot of women want to serve our country too, you know. How the hell that makes us a…a slut."

"He called you a slut?" I said that slowly…but God knows I want to find Sobel, right about fucking now, and execute my 51 ways to kill one particular shithead.

"Not that explicit…but it's implied."

"And what did you say to him?"

"I said to him…to fuck off…literally."

I blink. Twice. Okay…I'm impressed.

"You said 'fuck off' to a Captain?"

"I don't forget to add 'Sir' too. I know how to address an Officer."

I can't contain my laugh. This girl is really something.

"And what did he say after that?"

"He didn't manage to do anything, because the Colonel apparently heard all that. And let's just say that it has its perks to have the Colonel as your Godfather."

We both laugh at that.

"So…if all things are okay…what are you doing here, Becca?"

"To think…I guess…Like I've said before. Women also want to serve in the warfare. I'm fully aware that women have physical limitation, but that doesn't mean that we have to sit our asses at home, knitting, gossiping or looking for a husband. Why some people can't see that."

"Well…We all got jobs to do. Some people's job is to be an asshole and they excel at the position."

She smiles and says "I guess you're right."

We stand in silence a while before she says "I think it's time for me to go back. Will you escort me to my barrack, O Joly Old Saint Luz?"

"As long as you promised not to debauch me, Princess."

"You asshole!"

But she said that with a grin. So I can assume I will be alright.


	3. Chapter 3 - Becca

A/N: Thank you k-yers & mngirl for the reviews ^_^

Some of dialogue are inspired by Kinky Boots' song "What Women Want"

* * *

"As long as you promised not to debauch me, Princess."

"You asshole!" But I cannot hold my grin.

For some reason I cannot understand, I didn't mind he called me Princess. His puppy eyes kinda… distracting…Yeah…maybe that's why.

He offers his hand but I stay still.

"Hey…I'm trying to be gentleman here."

He's smiling but I think his voice is somewhat shaky. Is he nervous?

"I can walk by myself, you know." And start walking toward my barrack.

He looks a little disappointed but then puts his hand on his pocket and starts walking beside me.

"Damn, feminist. And how the hell I can show you my gentlemanship…hmm… Is that a word? Gentlemanship?"

He effortlessly makes me laugh again.

"No…I don't think it's a word, George."

"Yeah well…you're the smart one."

"Stop this self-depreciating, will you, George!"

"How can't I?"

"Well…you've said that you're in the best company in the entire ETO" I offer. "And you survived Sobel…"

He grins cheekily "Damn right, wom…I mean…Becca…Sorry…Our time in Toccoa was pure hell because of him. Up and down Currahee…Calisthenics…Other sadistic physical training…But on the bright side…Lookit this muscles." He rolls his sleeves and bends his hand, showing off his biceps, triceps and other ceps…

Oh…okay…Do not stare the muscle! DO NOT STARE THE MUSCLE! STOP THINKING IN CAPITAL LETTERS!

I mentally slap my erratic mind and say "Riiight…that's what women want…more muscle display."

 _You do like his muscle, you hypocrite._

"Hey…I know what women want… we all know what a bird really wants is a rock solid..."

"Commitment" I cut in before he can finish the sentence. Grinning.

He laughs boisterously "I wanted to say 'Biceps', but 'commitment' is better… I agree."

We walk in silence for several minutes. It's not awkward…but…calming.

"I still don't get it why you are here, Becca. I mean…why in the front line. You can operate those teletype machines or join the Signal Corps back in the States. You can still work with other women. But here? In this highly-charged testosterone-environment? I've heard the slandering, Becca. It hurts the reputation of the WAC. But still…you're here…"

I sigh before answer his question "Women have played a role in warfare since Ancient Egypt. Either as a commander or just a warrior. Female deities often portrayed as warrior, you know? Like Pallas Athena, WAC's symbol. She's the goddess of war strategy. Women contribution in warfare was recorded in almost all cultures and civilization. So if the ancients can appreciate their heroines, why we, the Americans that proclaimed ourselves as the descendant and guardian of the modern civilization, still practice the tradition of Neanderthals who keep their women in caves. I don't care about that gossip, George. I'm here to do something for my country. Anyone who thinks otherwise may suck my monkey's hairy ass."

"You have a monkey?"

"It's my dad's. A gift from his friend. And…Really, George? After that lengthy explanation, you have to ask about the monkey? Unbelievable. "

"Who the hell gave a monkey as a gift?"

"An eccentric steel magnate."

He chuckles and smiles at me. He looks…proud…somehow.

Well that's new. Usually when I explain my reason to a man, they will respond with "aww-honey-that's-adorably-smart-reasoning-but-why-don't-you-go-to-the-kitchen-and-make-me-casserole" expression.

"You really love history, don't you? I bet you're Professor's pet. Ouch! Becca! That fucking hurts! Sadistic much?! Okaaay…okay…Jesus! So…ahem… you want to prove to the world, that you are an Amazonian warrior or maybe to become the next Boudicca?"

"You know Boudicca?"

"Do you have to be that surprised?! I read a lot of classic books too, you know, not just comics. Comics are Joe's territory."

"I thought you only read Titters magazine." I say dryly.

"Eh…yeah…that too." He scratches the back of his head and smile sheepishly. Well, at least he's honest. Oh…but God help me, he looks so adorable.

 _Focus, Becca!_

George clears his throat before talks again "Erm…So are you sure there is no devilishly debonair heir waiting for you in the States?"

"I prefer a divinely dull, drab and dumpy man with commitment than a snob devilishly debonair heir, George."

"You always good with words, Becca…You know, I wish I can go to college. But I have nine siblings so…I had to have my priorities rearranged. I dropped out during my junior year in high school." He smiles weakly and kicks a pebble. "And then Hitler decided to embrace his asshole persona, so here I am. A radio man slash company clown slash a replaceable pawn in this godforsaken war."

"George…didn't I tell you to stop this self-depreciating mood? The way I see it, you survived the Great Depression, you volunteered to become a Paratrooper that I think are a bunch of idiot who jump from a perfectly fine airplane" He smiles at this "And I bet you enlisted not for fame and recognition, but because it's the 'right thing to do'. Am I right?"

"Actually…I volunteered to Paratrooper for the extra fifty bucks." He grins and I know he's joking again.

"I stand corrected: You're a cheap man, George Luz."

He laughs and I can tell his mood is back to his usual mischievous mode.

"You know, Becca…I'll have you know that I'm the one who responsible for Sobel being kicked from Easy."

"Really? Please do elaborate."

And then he told me about 'the Impersonation of a Major: a Scandal', that leads to 'the Bull-Shit Incident' (literally) and ended up with 'the Sobel Mutiny by the Easy's NCOs'. It was hilarious and he told the story with comical expressions and gestures, I ended up laughing in tears.

"Oh my God…You guys are crazy!"

"Yeah…we're Paratroopers. What do you expect? We're a bunch of crazy idiots." He grins.

All too soon, we arrived in my barrack.

"Well…here we are…This is my barrack. Thanks for walking with me, George."

"Likewise, Princess."

And we stand there, in the porch of my barrack. I want to say something, but I don't know what to say. His feet are fidgeting, his hands still in his pockets.

"Well…um…G'night then." He mumbles.

"Night, George. Give my hello to Bill and others, okay?"

"Okay… Becca…Um…do you have any plan for next weekend?"

 _Be still, my heart! That's an order!_

"Um…no…I don't have any plan…But…um…I supposed not to tell you this, but...the higher-ups currently are planning for the next campaign in Netherland. And they want to use the Airborne Army as soon as possible. I…kinda eavesdropped during the Colonel's meeting."

George looked crestfallen "Well…Easy has been drafted for two operations but then cancelled at short notice, thanks to Patton's ground forces overran our drop zones. Do you think this new operation will be for real?"

"I think so, George. Ike wants to keep the retreating Germans under pressure. I'm so sorry…I can't tell you the detail. I'm sure you will be briefed any time soon. But don't tell anyone yet, okay?" I know I can trust him.

"You will jump too?"

"Yes…along with the Colonel and his other staffs."

"Becca…I know the Colonel…He will stick to his regiment until the end of this war. It means that he will be with us in the front line. And that means you will be in the front line too."

"I know…George… I know…I'm ready for this."

"There's no way I can change your decision, am I?"

I shake my head.

"Damn, feminist." He mumbles. But there's no heat in there. Instead, I can feel…fear.

Why would he? He had jumped in D-Day. He's a Paratrooper. An elite squad that already knows the risk of jump into behind enemy line, but they jump anyway. So why…

But then I understand. His fear is for me.


	4. Chapter 4 - George

It's been one week, three days, and fourteen hours since I walked her to her barrack, not that I'm counting, but my brain cells decidedly replay over and over again our conversation that night. I saw her from time to time, mostly from afar, but I didn't approach her. I guess I was too scared I blurted out my worries about her being in the front line.

And why the fuck I should worry about her in the first place?! I only know five things about her, anyway. That she had exactly ten freckles on her nose; she wrinkle her nose if she doesn't agree with something; she bites her lower lips when nervous; she smells like lavender and her eyes is actually super dark brown, not black. Yeah…that five things only.

 _Get a grip, will ya! She's out of your league._

With a huff, I sit up from my bunk and grab my radio and my tools. This piece of shit needs constant maintenance and at least it give me something to do than thinking about fifteen ways to start a conversation with one Rebecca Jones. The other men are polishing their boots, cleaning their rifle or playing poker (a.k.a gossiping).

The semi-peaceful ambiance is ruined by one Italian motherfucker who never fully understands the concept of privacy. He shouts from his bunk, which is on the far side of the barrack.

"Hey George, did ya have a dick-ectomy or sumthin'?"

Huh? The fuck is he talking about? So my only reasonable response is: "Did you pass the English test before enlisting, Bill? Because what the fuck are you asking about?"

"I said…Did ya have a dick-ectomy or sumthin'? First you blatantly flirting with Becca and suddenly you chickening out on her."

Argh! This heinous excuse of a man needs to be eliminated from this earth. PRONTO. The other Easy men are snickering at me. The replacements included. Shit! There goes my 'veteran, hardened by combat and shit' persona I've been imposed to them. I'm tempted to steal a grenade and throw one at them just to minimize the witness of my disgraceful blush.

"Not your fucking business."

"It IS my fucking business if my platoon's radio man is not combat effective since his sorry excuse of a brain cannot stop thinking about one particular broad."

Like fuck. "Sure, Bill. Sure. But is that Sergeant Bill Guarnere who asking? Or Gonorrhea the Gossip Guru?"

He's not answering that, but he walks towards me and then slaps the back of my head.

"Fuck, Bill! What the hell?!"

"I'll give another one if you're not fish your brain outta your asshole."

"Have you heard something that called 'secret', 'private', or 'personal issues', Bill? In a simple language, so you can understand, it's something that you don't want anybody else to know. Exhibit A: the situation when you were shitting in your pants in Carentan, you loose-anused dickhead."

Ha! That teaches him something! Well, okay, Bill was not actually shitting in his pants in Carentan. Just almost, but still….so shut up.

"I did not!"

"Yeah…those majestic and glowing feces in my foxhole is not yours because you only shitting unicorns and roses."

He grabs my collar and drags me outside. I still can hear the men's laugh even when we're outside the barrack.

Bill offers me cigarettes. This is his way to say he's sorry. Although I'm pretty sure he will turn back to his Gossip Santa persona anytime soon.

After several puffs of the smoke, he says "Look, George. Just clear up whatever you have with Becca, okay? We'll jump to Netherland any time soon. I need you 100% effective. If you like her, fucking tell her. Get it out of your system or some shit like that. Although I pity her if you two ended up married and she has to give birth of your demonic offspring."

"I don't have anything with Becca, Bill."

"Yeah…right…I've seen you mooning over her like some fool every time she's in the corner."

"I was just looking at her. How the fuck is that effecting my 'combat effectivenes'? Whatever that is."

"That's not just a look. That's THE look. Believe me. I can tell. It happened with me and Frannie, ya know."

"I pity her…waiting for your ass while she can have better."

Bill chose to ignore it "You have to wing it suavely, George. And when you talk to a woman, you need a solid tactical plan."

"Thank you so fucking much for your unneeded advice and encouragement."

Bill shrugs "You're welcome. At least I know that you're still like girl. I was afraid you've change your preferences into goats."

"Nah…my affair with my neighbor's goat ended three years ago 'cause I cheated with a smaller livestock."

"Smartass"

And he fondly smacks my head again.

* * *

"So…you finally found your balls and decided talk to me again, George?"

Okay… Becca is scary as hell when she's mad. She's not yelling like a banshee, but she's got this intensity in her eyes that even can make Joe Liebgott cowering in fear and sucking his thumb. Okay…that is one scary image.

"Yeah…that…sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

Jesus! Why women always need reason for everything?

"For acting like an asshole."

"I'm impressed you're able to sum it up in one sentence." She says dryly.

Why you have to be this smart, Becca?

"Glad I still can impress you, Princess."

Thank goodness those eyes are softening a little. But she's still not smiling. Shit! So I should do some groveling here?

"I thought you're different from the other men, George. I thought you will understand me."

"Understanding your reason is not the same with stop worrying about you, Becca."

"Why do you have to worry about me?"

Oh for fuck's sake! Do you want me to declare it on top of the fucking hill or something? Men have some dignity too, you know.

"I've seen my friends die in front of me…okay? And it's not a pretty sight. It gives me nightmares until now. And I really don't want to have you in my nightmare, Becca."

"I see…"

I scratch the back of my head. "Yeah…so…be careful, okay Princess? Just stick with the Colonel like a chewing gum on his shoes or something."

Finally…finally she smiles and says "I will. You too, George. But really? You have to use chewing gum for the analogy?"

And of course when the universe starts to back on its balance, nuisance comes in form of two Italians. What the fuck are they doing here?

"So Mommy and Daddy making up yet?"

"I pity your parents then, Frank. They have my utmost sympathies."

"Now George…Frank and I only meant well. You know, Becca, George here is never fully functional since he met you. So I told him to square it away with ya. I need my radio man 100% combat effective." And he's grinning as if that's the most brilliant idea he ever had.

Oh, well. Shit. Okay. In my head, I'm stabbing myself in the face with a rusty knife. What did I do in my past life so I have to meet these shitacular friends.

Becca looks amused "You guys really need to form a comedy troupe after this war is over. Because I can see diamonds buried in your bullshits."

And how I cannot love a girl with vocabulary like that?

"Guys…if you don't want more damage to your nutsacks, I suggest we get back to our barrack. Good night, Princess. Sorry for these emotionally underdeveloped human beings."

She laughs and I have this urge to bottle it up and keep it for rainy days. I'm so fucked.

"Night, Frog. Night, weird one and weird two"

Frank and Bill' bickering about which one is the weird one and weird two is like a white noise during our walk back to our barrack. And I'm pretty sure I won't have any nightmare tonight.


	5. Chapter 5 - Becca

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews ^_^

Since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

* * *

Looking for one particular paratrooper in the marshaling area for the largest airborne drop of the war is actually a stupid thing to do. Between making a beeline between Paratroopers from nine companies, ignoring catcalls and avoiding occasional groping, that followed by me throwing punches here and there, I can't help to think why the hell is walking past strangers can be so stressful. And my jump suits and gears are not helping my maneuver either. So when finally I see Easy, my steps broke into a run.

"Bull, do you see George?"

"Well…I saw him and Joe bickering about whether they should bring Titters or not. 'bout 10 minutes ago. Over there. That was the stupidest argument I've ever heard." It's amazing how his cigar is never fall from his mouth while he's talking.

I hold the urge to slap my head to my hand. Those two always fight about everything.

"Thanks Bull. By the way…be careful…El Bastard comes to town."

"Huh?"

"Sobel…on my six…bye Bull…Be safe!"

"You too, Becca. Thanks for the warning." And he continues to help the replacements about how to jump properly. He is one of few Toccoa men that treat the replacements nicely.

Finally…I see George and Joe…wrestling. I exhale. This is the tenth time I see them in that circumstances. It's amazing though to think that they can do that in their jump gear.

"Joseph D. Liebgott Jr.! Do not disembowel our radio man using a rusty bayonet! It's not hygienic. Here, use my fountain pen."

"Princess! How could you?!"

I sigh "How many times I told you not to provoke him, George?"

Sometimes I feel being Easy Company honorary member equal to become a babysitter for one big dysfunctional family.

Joe lets George go but still swearing in all the colors of the rainbow.

"I was just kidding, Becca! It's not my fault if Joe's mood is like a bitch in her period."

"Fucking kill you!"

"Jesus! Calm your tits, Joe!"

"STOP IT YOU GUYS! We're in the middle of an airfield for God's sake. And Sobel's here!"

"You've got to be shitting me, Becca."

"No I'm not, Joe… Not yet anyway."

George laughs but one look from Joe and I make him shut his mouth.

I huff "Can't you guys serious for just one second?!"

"Becca, this is how we bonding. You're not really wanna kill me, don't ya Joe?"

"Ah, you know, I'm always fumbling with grenades…so…."

"I thought you guys are the best damn Company in the ETO, not a fourth grader. Behave yourself. Malarkey already got reprimanded by Sobel. Something about…a borrowed motorcycle?"

George laughs "Ha! Borrowed my ass. Alton and him smuggled that motorcycle from France. Winters and Nixon know about that, ya know. They accidentally on purpose looked away when Malarkey brought that motor to the ship. But maybe that's because Winters and Nixon smuggled live ammo to England too. I like them."

"Captain Winters and Captain Nixon are competent, all right. And you guys are lucky your platoon got Buck. David's platoon got Lieutenant Peacock to replace Welsh. Fresh from the OCS. And I think he's color blind. I heard he order Martin to tap him when the green light comes on."

Joe and George shout "The fuck?!"

George shakes his head "How he reads the maps then? And how the hell he passed the OCS?! Is the Army that desperate for replacement? Shit! We'll get lost if that retard on lead."

I can only shrug "George, our regiment alone suffers 50% casualties for the Normandy Campaign. So you do the math. Nevertheless, Peacock is still an officer, George. You can't treat him like you and Frank treat your replacement babies."

George sighs "Becca…losing friends is hard enough. But seeing some wide-eyed, wet-behind-their-ears boys replacing their place, is much worse. And now…half of Easy Company are replacements. They come directly from hurry-up trainings; I can see their sorry asses are still steaming. . Those constantly excited, tense, eager, and nervous babies will lead us to unnecessary death, for fuck's sake! So please do forgive us if my midget friend and I treated them like a doormat. This way, it'll be easier to forget them if they dead. No attachment."

I never thought about that. It must be hard for Toccoa men seeing some teenagers or green officers at their side, replacing their dead friends. So this is what George's means by "replaceable pawn in this godforsaken war".

Joe taps George shoulder and says "Okay…enough with the serious talk… What can we do for you Becca?"

"Since when you become so polite with Becca?"

"Shut up, George!" That's me and Joe talking. And we grin at each other when we see George's scandalized face. I'm gonna miss those puppy eyes.

"Just wanna say good luck to my Frog, Joe. Is it okay?"

"Shouldn't be the Frog looking for the Princess?" Joe says incredulously.

"I guess it's a feminist thing. Right, Becca?" George says that with dismay. I try to ignore that. He's a gentleman at heart, so I'm sure he's a little bit insulted when a woman come looking to him, not the other way around.

"That. And I don't want the Colonel pestering me about why a Paratrooper looking for his goddaughter. So I decided to come here."

Thankfully, Joe saves me from George's rant about what's a proper thing for a man to do.

"Hey George…don't you want to give something to Becca?"

"Right…Joe…can you…" And George gives him a shoo-ing gesture. Joe grins and winks knowingly.

"All right …I need to pee anyway. See ya, Becca."

"Bye Joe…Take care of those bladder! So…Frog…what is this thing you want to give me?"

"Let's find some place with more privacy…" And George walks in front of me towards a supply tent and then holds the flap so I can come in.

Once inside, George pulls out a small box from his backpack and gives it to me. It's a carved and turned boxwood chess set. The slide top has a paper label with 'K & C Ltd (London)' written on it. The carving is simple, but I can say it's a fine handicraft. And how does he know I love chess? He must be asked David about me. I hope he can't hear my heart beating on my ribs or see my cheek blushing, because it will be embarrassing.

"George…this is beautiful. How..?"

He smiles "Put your faith in my scrounging ability, Princess. My rivals are only Frank and Captain Nixon."

"Scrounging? Or more like stealing?" I tease him. But I can't stop my lips from smiling.

He grins "Semantics. But no...really…I trade it with some Limey officer. I gave him two Lugers, and he gave me that. It's a win-win solution. I hope we can play it sometimes. I'm not a very good player but I will give you some fight."

That…was...endearing. And I can't hold my tears anymore. So much for a feminist who promised herself that she will be as tough as nail. But this is the best gift I've ever had.

"George…"

He panics at my tears and rummages his backpack again "Becca…oh please no no no…don't cry…shit…I don't have handkerchief…why? You don't like it?"

I grab his wrist to stop him "No…George…I love it."

He looks at me with surprise. This is the first time we're holding hands. The last thing I know, he hugs me. And my brain suffers from a temporary shutdown.

When finally I can connect my brain with my mouth again, I whisper in his chest "Promise me you will be safe. Promise me you'll play chess with me…okay?"

"Becca, we can't make promises in combat."

He releases his hug but his hands still holding my hands. He then puts his forehead into mine. "But I do promise you, I'll do my best to come back to you. Will you do the same for me?"

"I will."

I barely see his charming smile before he kisses me in my forehead. And he hurriedly walks out the tent, leaves me realized that I'm officially hooked with his smile.


	6. Chapter 6 - George

When General fucking Taylor promised that the 506th would be in battle for just three days in the Normandy Campaign, we didn't return to England for thirty three days. Almost everyone in the regiment wants to shove their boots in General Taylor's ass.

So when we're promised that we will be in battle for just several days, two weeks tops, we believe that it's just his ass who's talking. As my beloved midget friend once said "Easy Company is the only company who's either at the front of an advance or exposed at the far edge of the line", Easy is most likely will be the spearhead for every battle. Because we're the best motherfucking company, Baby! Sarcasm and irony intended.

Oh…and one solid order from that particular ass is that he doesn't want to see us in our wool-knit caps. So if we've got to wear a wool-knit cap, we have to keep it under our helmet. And don't let General fucking Taylor catch you with that helmet off. Frank speculates that the General has a traumatic experience during his formative years with a wool-knit cap ("Spanked by his Ma while she's wearing that cap, perhaps?"). I think my orthodonticly-obsessed friend is suffered from brain damage due to too much fluoride from his toothpaste.

Thankfully, the higher ups decided to throw us from the plane in the one fine end-of-summer day, with a bright blue sky, no wind, most likely no Luftwaffe planes to contest the air armada…ideal shits like that, paratrooperly speaking. At least there is minimal chance our butt will end up in a tree and spread miles from the DZ like in Normandy.

This beautiful summer day makes me think that it will be a perfect day for a date. A picnic in the meadow, perhaps. Yeah…yeah…I admit I've been a fucking sappy puppy since I met Becca…happy now?! She's the first woman that makes me disgrace myself to asking one David Webster what would be a perfect gift for her. And interrogating David Webster is one experience that I'll be happy not to repeat again. His intellectual-Harvard's-English -Major –themed-insults will scarred me for life. Thank goodness, Joe's less-intellectually-dirty-sailor-themed-counter-insults saved me for further damage. I owe that Hebrew motherfucker my love life.

But the damage was proven its worth when I saw Becca literally cried happy tears. And one thing lead to another, we ended up hugging. WE'RE FUCKING HUGGING! For the first time in my life, I was glad my limbs move themselves without firstly consulting my brain, since said brain at that time was short-circuited due to Becca grabbed my hand. And then I ki-

"George, you constipated? Why are you grinning?"

It's just two questions from one teeny-tiny Italian fucker, asked (or shouted, since we're inside a plane) innocently. But it managed to destroy my happiest memory of Becca.

"Naah…I think George is currently holding an explosive diarrhea. 'rite, George?"

Sometimes I wonder why Captain Winters promoted Bill to Platoon Sergeant.

"Takes one to know one, Bill. And you, midget…Shut the fuck up or I sold you to the Nazi once we meet them."

"No…Guys…George here gave something to Becca before we take-off. And from his face when he walked out the tent, I bet my fucking ass, they did something in there." Joe smirks. HE FUCKING SMIRKS!

I stand corrected. I do not owe anything to Joe fucking Liebgott.

Oh how I would kill to have privacy right now. For a moment I wanted to groan and slap my palm over my face. But it will give them satisfaction that they managed to corner me.

"That information is fucking classified, ya shithead. And apparently, your asshole skills aren't lacking, old man." I say to Joe.

"You fucker! I'm no old man! I'm still in my twenties." You see…Joe is sensitive about his age. Well…he's sensitive about everything, actually. He might be pissed off if you tell him that dog has four legs.

"Twenty NINE, to be exact. Let's just hope your fucking sperm is not expired before you meet a decent broad."

That shuts him up for the rest of the flight.

* * *

Compared to our jump in Normandy, today's jump was heaven. There was some antiaircraft fire, but there was no chaos as in Normandy. My butt landed softly in the green grass. My only concern is to get off the DZ as soon as possible to avoid getting hit by falling equipment, since the DZ is highly concentrated. Someone in the planning must be so retarded to appoint one DZ for the whole Regiment. It's definitely not funny if you're killed by a fallen helmet or bayonet after you survived a hellish jump in D-Day.

The next hours felt like a blur. I moved based on muscle memory. I followed order. I shoot the Krauts. It felt like it's an out-of-body experience. In our first objective, the bridge over the Wilhelmina Canal, I almost buried in debris of wood and stone when the Kraut blew it if Bill not dragged me to safety.

We crossed the canal by dark and I slept in a foxhole, shared with Bill, flooded with water and mud since it's raining like hell.

"George, are you okay?"

I shrug "Ish."

"Becca is fine, George. The Colonel is okay, right? Still barking orders and shit in the radio."

I sigh and thud my head to my rifle "I thought I lost her when I heard the Colonel's plane got hit."

There's some perks of being radio man, I guess. You'll know firsthand about what happened in the commands. But if the news turned up to be bad…well…

Regimental HQ's planes were struck by Krauts' antiaircraft fire. The Colonel's plane…Becca's plane… takes the heaviest hit. A part of its wing dangled. But thank God and all the deities out there, they all landed safely and the Colonel promptly organized the regiment to our objectives. But still...the Colonel and his staffs…and Becca…nearly suffered the same fate as Lieutenant Meehan on D-Day.

"But you're not losing her. She's tough. Tougher than any other women we know. Have faith in her."

"You have no idea how relieved I was when I heard the Colonel's voice on my radio. But I will feel much better if I can see her myself."

"You guys talking about Becca?" Here comes my busy body midget friend. He jumps to my foxhole, splashing mud everywhere. I can't believe he's a 27 year old man. Also a husband AND a father. I personally think that he should probably abstain from sex completely. It's for the greater good of humanity.

I sigh "Don't you have somewhere to be? Like…at your foxhole? And then buried yourself? Or go molest Joe…or someone else…or something...or some goat."

"I do not molest the unconscious. That fucker sleeps like he's dead."

"You scared of him."

"Oh please…I don't care if he's pissing icicles or eats kitten for breakfast or shitting fire. I ain't scared of him. Webster might. But not me."

"What's the point of this discussion?" Bill asks impatiently.

"To prove that Frank is a royal idiot."

"Says the man who invented grab fanny and its scoring system."

"Hey! Grab fanny is my masterpiece, you ass!"

Bill's patience is wearing thin apparently, since he's taking a deep breath before he rants "Roll up your flaps or I'll beat your sorry asses with my bunny slipper, I swear to fucking God! Jesus! Thank goodness both of you are not in the same platoon."

I open my mouth in retaliation, but Bill gives me his most 'Wild Bill' stare, so I shut it again. I don't have a fucking death wish.

* * *

If not for Becca, I will accept all the kisses from Eindhoven's women offer to me. I'm not as handsome as Winters or Nixon or even Speirs (Damn! That man is handsome in scary way), but apparently women's preferences in this city had lowered so much, they throw kisses to any American soldier they saw. And we have…um…needs, you know. Any physical contact with human being without a pole down there will be highly appreciated. So do forgive us if we kinda get carried away.

Exhibit A: Lipton had to drag Frank from one suffocating attempt, conduct by a woman with…I'm not kidding you about this…the most ginormous tits I've ever saw. Even Joe, who I considered as tits person, looked appalled. Said midget is alive, unfortunately, but not without a face that looks like he has found the answer of all questions in the universe. I swear I can see birds flying around his head. This, my friend, will be a legitimate blackmail material. I'm sure his wife will never appreciate her husband's 'near death experience'.

One elderly man gives me preserve peaches in a mason jar. It tastes like heaven; very different from Army issued canned peaches in Toccoa. I eat some and save the rest since our K-ration was allegedly prepared by some sadistic Army cooks. I don't know if the Army wants us to stay alive or to kill us slowly with those rations.

* * *

That night we sleep in a barn. I don't know when we will sleep under the roof again, so I decided to cherish this moment by forcing the men to playing poker. It's my turn to deal the cards when I hear her voice.

"Frog!"

"Becca? Is that you?"

"No… I'm a chicken." She deadpans "Of course it's me, you idiot, do you know another English speaking woman in this regiment?"

My first instinct is to run and hug her. God, she looks good. But we have spectators. So…I have to refrain myself. And it's so damn hard.

"George, the thing in your hand is called cards, not your dick. No need to fondle them, just fucking deal."

Note to self: cut Joe's dick and feed it to the alligator.

Becca laughs out loud…wheezing for breath and clutching her stomach. Along with the barn's occupants.

"Congratufuckinglations, Joe…for showing us that AGE doesn't equal eloquence. Here…deal the fucking cards yourself. I'm out." And I throw the cards to him with my most dignified throw I can muster.

I drag Becca outside, tugging her sleeve. She's still laughing. We're still in the door when Bill shouts "Have a safe sex, children!" That's followed by more raucous laughter from the men who I consider my own brothers.

Once we're outside, we walk in silence towards a haystack. Becca still has a smile in her lips.

 _Do not stare at her lips, you pervert!_

"George…are you okay? You look everywhere but me."

I scratch the back of my head. How the fuck I answer that.

"Um…no…Becca…I'm the one who should ask are you okay. You know…about the jump."

She smiles "I'm alive, George. That's the most important thing, right?"

"I just…"

She cuts me "I did afraid, George. But the Colonel was very calm and it helped a lot. I've been training for this condition. Same like you."

Then she scratches her nose sheepishly and asks "Do you enjoy your time with the women in Eindhoven?"

She clearly wants to change the subject. So I oblige.

"Every woman wants a piece of George Luz, Princess. But I have, you know, standards and shit."

She looks at me…amused "Oh really? Care to explain?"

"Well…she has to be smart, for a start. Preferably from some Ivy League. Harvard is acceptable, as long as she doesn't have that pretentious behavior and she's willing to become my side kick."

I can swear her face is flushed.

Mine too, to be honest. But I have to play this suavely.

"I know a girl like that." She says.

"Well…tell her to save her ass for me until this war over."

She laughs "Her ass? I thought you want her to be smart."

"Well…the ass is an incentive that I won't turn down."

She shakes her head and chuckles "Men"

We stand side by side in silence for a while. I can do this forever. This gives me some peace that is a rare treat when you're a soldier in a war.

She's the first who broke our silence "I have to go. I only asked permission to go for 30 minutes. Stay safe, Frog."

"You too, Princess."

We're look at each other and then she steps towards me, stood on her tiptoe and kiss my cheek.

My brain still process what the fuck did just happened when she turns around and runs toward regimental HQ.


	7. Chapter 7 - Becca

A/N: Thanks a lot for K-yers for the edit. It makes this chapter more readable ^_^

And as usual...reviews are loved.

* * *

Holy shit. Holy _shit_. Holy _fucking_ shit!

What...What did...What did I do just now? Mother would kill me if she knew about this. I can picture her lecturing me about what a "lady" should and should not do when a man is involved.

And kissing a man you just met is the most unladylike behavior in my Mother's "Guide of Ladylike Behavior". She'd say, "It's not proper." Or something like that.

But I kissed him. I kissed George Luz on the cheek...

What the hell am I thinking?!

It's just, the way he talked "subtly" about his standards...and his eyes...Yeah, I solemnly blame his brown eyes.

 _Damn you, George Luz and your gorgeous eyes!_

Apparently, running in the night with you mind occupied by a certain Company Clown is not a wise thing to do. Because the next thing I know, I end up hitting a solid wall. A solid wall that says "umpf" and falls down on his butt just like me.

"What do you think you're doing, soldier?" Speirs's voice sounds.

 _Holy hell!_

I stand up as fast as I can, just as he does.

"I'm sorry, sir." I said. "My situation awareness has been compromised."

He lifts one of his eyebrows, but he doesn't shoot me either, so I counted it as a win. "You're one of Colonel Sink's staff, right?" He asked.

Well, no shit, Sherlock. I'm the only female in the regiment. Of course you know me.

"Yes, sir."

His face is unreadable. "I've heard about you. What are you doing at this hour?"

"Visiting friends, sir. In Easy Company."

"Hmm, yeah, I figured. I understand that they need moral support. Especially one particular radio man who looked very stunned when you kissed him on the cheek." And then he smirks, which is eerie.

Holy shit! He saw that.

I stuttered, "I..I.."

"No need to worry, Jones is it? As long as that radio man is still doing his job exceptionally, I won't tell anything to anyone. I heard he's the best radio man in this battalion. A good rifle man too."

Without thinking, I grin and say proudly, "He is, sir." My George _is_ the best radio man. He can fix any kind of trouble with his radio. He knows tricks that are not taught in the training. I heard that his aptitude test score from training is one of the highest. He's also calm under fire, never making mistakes in forwarding messages or orders.

Wait! Hold up! When did George become "My George"? I filed that away to analyze later. I had a sparky Lieutenant to attend to right now...who can apparently read my mind, since he gives me "Ha-I-Caught-You" grin.

Which, to be honest, was a lot more scarier than his regular "I'm-Gonna-Kill-Any-Human-Lower-Than-Me" facade.

Jesus! Who would've thought that Speirs was interested in gossip?

"Go back to your billet, Jones." Speirs said. "And don't let your...situation awareness...be compromised again. We are still in a war zone."

I nodded to him, since we're not allowed to salute to officers in combat, and rush off to my room. There's no need to push my luck further with the infamous Lieutenant.

* * *

"God dammit! These limeys must have lost their minds!" Colonel Sink shouted, entering our regimental HQ tent. He slammed a report onto his desk.

"Sir?" I asked.

He exhaled spectacularly and then walked over to his footlocker, pulling out his supply of Bourbon and drinking it. "Easy couldn't get through Nuenen because some particular asshead in the form of British tank commanders had orders not to destroy too much property in a friendly country. Easy got hit pretty bad. They have to retreat."

It feels like an ice block just formed in my stomach. "Any casualties, sir?" I asked.

He gives me the report. "Here. Brace yourself, Becca; I know you have friends in there."

That was a major understatement.

I skimmed the list, looking for familiar names while silently praying that I won't see George's name on it.

 _Sgt. Chuck Grant: wounded._

 _Pvt. Robert Van Klinken: KIA._ Oh dear Lord, I hope David's all right. Van Klinken was one of his closest friends.

 _Pvt. James Miller: KIA._ The kid wasn't even old enough to drink a beer...

 _Lt. Lynn Compton: wounded…_ in his butt. It would've been funny if I wasn't so worried about George.

 _Sgt. Denver Randleman: MIA_. But, Bull was the toughest soldier I had ever known. He'll be alright.

In total, there are fifteen casualties. But no George, thank goodness. I exhaled a sigh of relief.

But for how long would it last?

* * *

In Veghel and Uden, situations were normal, paratrooperly speaking. It means that we're surrounded. Our supply line was cut by the Germans, so food, ammunition, and medical supplies were no longer coming in to the north.

And in Veghel, I experienced my first shelling. It was pure hell. I took shelter in a cellar with the Colonel's staff and some Dutch civilians. Their moans, shrieks, and prayers were constant sounds along with the explosions outside. It was all very depressing.

The Colonel himself was outside, driving his jeep and ordering Easy, Dog, and Fox to set up a perimeter defense and ordering to shoot anything that moved. They fought for the next two days, trying to reopen the road for supplies.

It became more apparent that Market-Garden was a strategic failure. The overconfidence of the higher-ups lead us to taking one hell of a licking. If it wasn't for the stubbornness of the 101st Airborne, the Allied forces would've lost even more severely.

I can only find out about Easy through reports. Easy was always on the frontlines and always in action, while I'm in the relative safety of regimental HQ.

Every single day I pray that I don't have to read another familiar name, especially one particular name, in the increasingly long list of casualties.

* * *

And here comes October: 16 days since our jump and we're still in Holland. No wonder the men want to shove their boots up General Taylor's ass. I can commiserate.

To make the situation worse, the Airborne division are now reverted to trench warfare, just like the Great War. They're trained as a light infantry assault outfit, with the emphasis on quick movement and small arms fire. But now, the landscape forces them to hide in dikes, foxholes, or barns since their asses are guaranteed to be blown to pieces by the German's artillery if they even poke their head out into the open.

But currently, Easy gets to be in rest position in a barn. After sixteen days of being in the front, they finally have a roof over their heads. So I decided to pay them a visit, since the last time I saw them was in Eindhoven.

Oh, who am I kidding? I wanted to see George. I missed him. I wanted to see myself that he was all right. There! Happy?

The ambiance in the barn is somewhat peaceful. The men are chatting, playing poker, or cleaning their rifles. One exception is Frank; he's brushing his teeth as vigorously as usual.

And then, there he is. He's fixing his radio while chatting animatedly with Bill and Joe.

"Frog?"

"Becca?" George's head snapped over to me and for a second it looks like he wants to hug me. But he restrains himself. Wise move, since the rest of the men look at us with glee, waiting for some gossip-worthy scene between us.

I raise my chess box and say, "Fancy a game?"

George grinned, "I thought you'd never ask."

I literally hear the men sigh heavily in disappointment.

Three games, two packs of hideous K rations, and a jar of preserved peaches later, George asks, "I'm fucked up, am I?"

"We're playing chess, George. Not discussing your sex life." I said. He moved his King for the second time and I happily move my knight and merrily say, "Check." I kept on winning.

"You're lucky you're a woman, Becca, or I'd give you my middle finger salute." He moves his King again.

"Oh, look at that, Frog. Check again." I moved in.

"Jesus! You two still playing?" Bill asked after slapping Joe in his head. They're sitting beside us and talking about the merits of big soft titties (Joe's preference) versus childbearing hips (Bill's preference). Important issues, apparently, since they kept gesturing to said features repeatedly.

"My manhood is at stake." George said, scratching his head before moving his King again.

"I didn't realize you had one, Frog." I said. "And also, check. Well, Bill, our friend here is not fond of losing."

"Also not fond when he's treated like he's not here." George grumbled petulantly.

"You sound like a fucking housewife." Joe said.

"Don't you have patrol duty with Les, Joe? Go and shoot some fucking Krauts."

"Fuck you, George," Joe said, but he stood up and began to assemble with Les and Alley for their night patrol.

George flicks his King and said, "Fuck! I give up, but with absolute hate."

Bill and Frank (finally finished with brushing his teeth) laugh at his expense.

"Aw, Frog, what sportsmanship you've got there."

George grumpily helps me collect the pieces. "Let's play poker. And then we'll see who has the last laugh."

We don't play poker that night. Easy needed to head to the frontlines again. This time they needed to attack a mass of land called the Island.

And Easy has been so lucky. With only 35 men, it turned out that they're facing two companies of 300 SS soldiers. Their casualties, are "only" one dead and 22 wounded. The Krauts' casualties were fifty dead, eleven captured, and about 100 wounded. Statistically, this is impressive. Solid proof of the Captain's strategic and leadership abilities.

But when I read carefully through the casualties report again, I found David's. Colonel barely said "Yes, you may go" when I rushed to the regimental aid station. I hoped I could find him in there. Because if he could make it to the regimental aid station, it meant that he had a higher probability to survive.

* * *

"Davey?"

"Becca?" David's voice responded. "I thought I'd never see you again." He's laying on a makeshift bed. The regimental aid station is only a temporary area before patients can be moved to a British hospital in Brussel. I cry with relief.

"Becca, honey, it's okay. It's just my leg. It's a clean wound in my calf; no need to worry."

"I'm so relieved, Davey. The report only said that you got shot. I didn't know how bad."

"Well, as you can see, I'm fine. Not bad enough, so I'll still have my limb, but bad enough so I can stay off the line for a while. Oh, and George is fine too." He added with a knowing smile.

"Davey, I'm here for you. Not to ask about George."

He scoffed. "Becca, everyone in Easy knows that you both are practically married."

I choked. We were _what_?!

"We what?"

David laughed. "Oh, Becca, you should see you face. You like him, right?"

"Um, yeah, I think I do-but..."

He cuts me off. "The love is love. That's that. No need to define the sky."

"Sometimes, I hate that you're so good with words."

He smiled at that. "Yeah, but I said the most inadequate and unimaginative cliché when I got shot. 'They got me!' Jesus! That was embarrassing."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. Leave it to David to elevate the drama for every event. "Oh my God, don't let our pretentious Harvard friends hear that. It will be mortifying."

"Pah, civilians, like they understand what we deal with." He laughed bitterly. "Do you think you can respect those snob dumbasses who bribe their way so that they're not drafted? I'll never forgive them."

"Davey..."

"I hate this war, Becca. Why don't they throw Hitler, Mussolini, Hirohito, Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill into a ring, give them all kinds of weapons, and let the fight to the death. There will be no more young men dying for old men's war. To be honest, I'm glad I got shot. I can get away from the frontline; I dreaded every second I was there. But when my mother sent me a letter saying that she didn't want me to go, I got mad. She didn't want me to go, so some other son could get killed instead of her's. That would be too selfish. I know my obligation to my country; I don't have to like it, but I'll do it."

I hold his hand. "And you will fight alongside your brothers."

He smiled weakly. "Yeah, I'll come back for Easy. But I won't hurry. I'll use every bit of time I have to stay away from the front."

David is a scholar, not a warrior...and a little bit stubborn. But he's loyal to his friends. I can understand him, I just hoped that the Easy men could understand him too, considering it's kind of Easy's tradition to go AWOL from the hospital.

"When will they move you to the hospital?" I asked.

"I don't know, maybe tomorrow. I've been tagged. And then they'll send me for some rehabilitation in England."

"Write for me, okay Davey?"

"I will, honey. I'll miss you. Take care of yourself, okay. You have one radio man who will be very pissed if something happens to you. And I thought you said that you're not looking for a husband."

"I'm not!" I said, hoping it didn't sound too petulant. But from the look on his face, I know I've failed miserably.

"What? He's not good enough for you?"

"It's not that-"

"He'll make you happy, Becca."

"How do you know?"

"I'm an observer. Trust me."

I sighed. "How convenient, don't you think? Falling in love with a soldier in the middle of a war."

David gave me his widest grin. "So you admit it, you love him?"

God dammit!


	8. Chapter 8 - George

A/n: Many many thanks to K-yers (again) & LeeteukkieLover for the review & edit. *hugs*

Also thank your for new followers of this story. You guys make me clap my hands like a seal.

and as usual...reviews are loved

* * *

"Bacon." Frank said out of the blue.

"Uh, bacon to you too," I said. "And also, what the fuck?"

"I miss bacon," The midget said glumly, staring at his rations. The rations themselves resembled shit in the mud, just like the shit and mud outside right now.

"You should start talking in complete sentences. I ain't a mind-reader. People will start to think you're some kind of a retard. Oh wait; they already do."

I receive a slap in the head because of that. "Have you taken your anti-asshole pill for today, George?" Frank asked. I wouldn't dignify him by answering that.

"Just hurry the fuck up and inhale that shit, Frank." I said. "Moose will start the briefing shortly."

"We can't call him Moose. He's our CO now."

I sighed. "I miss Papa Winters. Do you think he misses us?"

"Don't worry, Georgie honey. Momma Nixon and Uncle Moose will take care of us." Frank said, patting my shoulder.

"How the hell am I the Momma here? Have you seen Winters' mother-hen antics about you guys?"

 _Holy fucking shit!_ We knew Nixon was in S-2, but that didn't give him the right to sneak up on us like the good little intel he was. He took his job too seriously.

Frank choked on his food and I had to slap his back several times until he could breathe normally again. Moose-or _Lieutenant_ Heyliger was struggling to hide his laughter from behind his hand.

I couldn't help but smirk with fucking glee, since this was the first time the blunder wasn't mine. And it's fucking fun to see Frank's face go white. Revenge is sweet.

"Hurry up and finish your chow, gentlemen." Moose... _dammit_...Lieutenant Heyliger said. "The briefing will start in ten."

"Yes, sir." I said on behalf of the shocked midget.

Heyliger dragged Nixon towards the barn that we'll use for the briefing. Nixon was still grumbling, "How come I'm the mother, Fred? Dick is the one who keeps worrying about Easy. I-"

Heyliger shook his head and cut Nixon off. "Then stop bitch-I mean, venting your frustration."

Nixon looked at him incredulously. "I'll never share my Vat-69 with you anymore." He paused and then added, "Or my bacon sandwich."

* * *

It appeared that the Limeys asked for help to rescue their friends, who were hiding out with the Dutch underground on the north side of the Lower Rhine. Since the crossing point was across Easy's position, Colonel Sink _volunteered_ Heyliger to lead the rescue patrol.

Typical. As Smokey said after the briefing, "We'd furnish the personnel, the British would furnish the idea and, I suppose, the Band-Aids. A fair swap by British standards."

But the operation turned out to be a success. The only downside was that I grew exasperated that the rescued Limeys would shake my hand and say, "God bless you, Yank." All during the supposed stealthy operation! I almost shouted, "Shut the fuck up, you fuckface!" I just figured that it would be counterproductive to the Anglo-American relationship.

Colonel Sink is proud of us though. He issued a citation for gallantry in action the next morning. After the declaration, Becca, who accompanied the Colonel, approached us.

"I still can't believe you guys were able to shut your mouths during the operation." She said the second she was close enough.

"When will you believe that we're the best company in the goddamned ETO? We're the Colonel's golden children." Bill said.

Becca appraises us for a moment with her hands crossed in front of her and said, "Nope. You guys are more like an expanded version of the Three Stooges for me."

"George, handle your woman or there'll be bloodshed." Bill said before he turned to leave us.

Becca laughed and called after him, "I love you, too, Bill."

"Should I be jealous?" I asked dryly.

"Hmm, no. I don't think you should. I think I'm stuck with you, retard." She said nonchalantly.

 _How the fuck can she say that with a straight face?!_

"Yeah, well, I'm irresistible." That's all I can say without betraying my nerves that threatened to burst.

She laughed. "Ooh, George. What could I do without George Luz? By the way, I finally decided the reward for my winnings from the other day."

"What?!" I asked. "I didn't realize we had a bet. I thought you just asked for a game."

"George, I won three time in a row. I should have a reward."

Jesus! What should I do about this woman?!

"Okay then. Name it."

"As soon as we're on R&R, you should help me with the inventory for officer's supplies."

I snorted. "I should've known you were just hoping to use me for the strength of my muscles."

"Of course," She deadpanned. "Why else would I want to talk to you?"

The little shit.

"Why, for my sense of humor, of course." I countered.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, Frog." She said sweetly before turning back to Regimental HQ.

* * *

We live in a miserable existence after that. We slept in foxholes. The rain was constant. No showers. No shaving. We ate mucky rations since it's all soaked up by the rain.

You know, just paratroperly stuff.

To make matters worse, the universe wants to fuck us up ever more. One nervous replacement baby shot Heyliger thinking he was a Kraut.

Heyliger's replacement is 1st Lt. Norman S. Dike, Jr. And within two weeks, the whole company already has a line formed for the honor of pissing in his coffee. He is the true embodiment of the phrase, "Educated does not mean intelligent."

Just like Sobel, Dike has a permanent "stupid, asshole, and proud," written on his forehead.

* * *

It's in late November when we are finally pulled out off the line. We really wanted to kick one particular General to the moon and back.

When we arrive at Camp Mourmelon, I received the following heart-warming fanfare.

"Jesus, Frog! Your reek!"

Dammit, woman. We've been on the frontlines for 69 days in the wettest armpit of the world. Without SHOWERS! It's a miracle we didn't transform into swamp monsters or something.

But Becca had this look of absolute disgust, so...

"Thank you very much for the warm welcome, Sweetums. Whaddaya expect? The Army didn't provide hot showers and lavender soap on the frontlines. And don't you dare throw up on me, Becca!"

Her face was literally green. This was fucking undignified.

She pinched her nose and said, "There's a hot shower over there. I'll talk to you to claim my reward when you're more resembling a human rather than pig shit." She hurried off back to Regimental HQ.

"A princess shouldn't talk like a dirty sailor!" I called after her.

She flipped me off without even a backwards glance. The gall of that girl!

Then why did she come to me in the first place? She was here the second I jumped out of the truck. Psh, women. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that she missed me.

Wait...did she?

Oh well, I'll think about it later. Right now, my priorities were having a shower and wiping my ass with honest-to-God toilet paper. I sighed with anticipation.

When that first droplet of hot water touched my skin, _sweet Jesus_! I officially declare that hot shower to be my new best friend. If Christenson didn't end up threatening to draw my private member in great detail and then give it to Becca, I probably never would've left the shower.

Next thing is to do laundry, which is basically throwing our uniforms into a huge basket. But our uniforms are so filthy that I don't think the Army will waste their energy to make them clean again, considering the biological hazard of that shit. Malarkey bet that those dirty uniforms will be sent to the US Army Biological Warfare Lab in Camp Detrick to make some biological bombs (that bomb part was Joe's contribution. He's been reading too many comic books for his own good).

Extra long, hot shower: done.

Exterminate disheveled uniform: done.

Devour meals that don't resemble or smell like shit: double done with extra third and fourth helpings.

I felt like a human again. And now it was time to meet Becca.

* * *

Obviously, Becca is in the Regimental HQ office. It meant that there was a big probability that I'd run into Colonel Sink. I always liked the Colonel. Unlike General fucking Taylor, Colonel Sink had a sensible and realistic approach in combat. But that's in combat. In a Private-wants-to-meet-his-goddaughter situation, he was in an uncharted area of operation.

And, of course, because the universe loved to make my life as difficult as possible when it came to Rebecca fucking Jones, said female is in discussion with the Colonel when I enter the office. There's no way to turn around, since they both lift their heads and looked at me. Great.

I did my obligated salute and stand up straight.

"What can I do for you, Private?" The Colonel asked with his eyes looking directly into mine.

"Actually, sir, I asked him to meet me after he cleaned up. Um, I need help in doing inventory for officer's supply." Becca answered the Colonel. Thank God, because I didn't think the Colonel would've like my answer of "I want to ask for your goddaughter's hand in marriage."

Wait, what?! Where the hell did _that_ come from? Note to brain: for the hundredth time, unfuck yourself!

"Any reason why you asked for this particular Private?" The Colonel asked.

 _Excuse me, Colonel, sir, but "this particular Private" is right over here._

"I lost three times in a row during a game of chess, sir." I offered. Becca looked smug, the little shit. The Colonel looked like he's not totally buying it. I tried to look as innocent as I could, but I know I failed spectacularly. Innocent and George Luz simply cannot be put in the same sentence.

"Can you leave us, Private Jones? I need to talk to this Private Luz," The Colonel said, reading the name badge on my uniform.

 _Holy motherfucking shit!_

Becca left the room with a confused look. Well, we're in the same wavelength, apparently.

"At ease, Private." The Colonel said once Becca was gone.

 _No can do, sir. I'm too nervous. Is this gonna be that "you hurt her, I'll kill you" session?_

"I've heard a lot about you, Private."

Okay...I can't tell if that's good or bad since the Colonel's face is like, well, that. I nod anyhow, since I can't trust myself to open my mouth and talk. At this point of time, my brain inconveniently took a break for itself and left my mouth on its own. So it's extremely dangerous.

"You have a reputation." He added.

Jesus! His face is still unreadable. "I hope it's a good one, sir." I said.

"Some of it."

Well, shit.

He studied me for awhile, which feels like a thousand years, and then he finally said, "You hurt her, and I'll kill you."

I gulped. Okay, so this _is_ that session. So I said, "Never intend to, sir."

Thank goodness, my mouth is apparently doing the smart thing, because the Colonel's face is relaxing. Just a little bit. "You really lost three times in a row?" He asked.

I can't help but cringe. "Yes, sir. It was brutal. I was thoroughly humiliated in front of the men."

He laughed his booming laugh, which was rarely heard, and said, "I taught her good then." He paused and then added. "The Division sees fit to give you all passes to Reims on December 1st. But also the 82nd. Now, am I assured that there will be no trouble?"

I'm sure his real meaning is "keep Becca out of trouble". Well, I'll take that as a good thing that he trusts his goddaughter's well being with me. I nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, get!"

I saluted and hurriedly walked out of the office. Becca's head snapped up when she sees me. "What did the Colonel say?" She asked anxiously.

"Prepare to doll up, Princess." I said, grinning. "We're gonna have a date."

Her smile is beatific.

* * *

Another A/N:

If BoB is a musical, what will be the appropriate theme song for each character/ moments? Send me your thought. ^_^

Currently, I'm thinking about "The weight of us" by Sanders Bohlke, "No sound but the wind" by Editors and "Love Vigilantes" by Iron & Wine


	9. Chapter 9 - Becca

A/N: Thanks again to K-yers for her edit :)

And as usual, reviews are loved

* * *

"George? Are you still mad at me?"

He still hadn't spoken to me since we finished doing the inventory. He had accidentally dropped a case of cigarettes on his foot and, somehow, blamed me for that. Yeah, well maybe that was because I had distracted him a little bit when I accidentally hugged him from behind. But that was because I had lost my balance and the closest thing to grab onto was George. So...

"Georgio..." I said, drawing out his name. "Am I gonna date a mute?"

Ha! There was a twitch in his mouth. Let's try this again...

"If I give you an unlimited supply of toilet paper, will you talk to me again?" I asked.

George didn't answer right away, and then, "I traded my precious Lugers to give you a handcrafted chess set. Not to mention scarred my life permanently for asking David Webster about what would be a perfect gift for you. And you want to give me," He paused dramatically. "toilet paper. My sacrifices will be paid with toilet paper?" He asked incredulously.

Wow, who could have thought that George Luz could be overly dramatic? I smiled and said, "Spend one more week on the front line and tell me if you don't want an honest to God roll of toilet paper."

He rubbed his face exasperatedly. "I'll never win, will I?"

"Nope," I said with heavy emphasis on the "p".

Before George can say anything, we hear Frank holler, "Hey, dumbass!" When Frank saw me, he added, "and his missus."

Oh...

Well, apparently David was right. Our friends already considered us an item. I just hoped my blush is not that obvious.

George groaned but then composed himself and said, "What can I do for my beloved midget on this fine day?"

"I'm not a midget!" Frank said. I think that that was the SOP of their friendship. George would call Frank a midget, or any variation of it. Frank would answer with "I'm not a midget", or any variation of that.

"Fine," George said with an eye roll. "My dear, vertically-challenged friend. Deal with it! Or I'll call you my dear intelligently-challenged friend."

 _Oh, I love this guy._

"I'm bringing you your mail, shithead!" Frank said, throwing George a stack of mail that George caught reflexively. George's face lit up instantly. Letters from home, when they finally caught up with the men, always boosted morale one hundred percent.

"Sugar reports?" Frank asked, grinning like a madman.

"Nope. You know that I don't have anyone to give me that." He said and then paused as if he realized something. "You deliberately asked me that in front of Becca, didn't you? These are from Mama Luz, asshole!"

"Yeesh," Frank said. "Mama's boy."

George flipped him off.

"You've got mail too, Frank?" I asked Frank. George started to rip into his letters eagerly.

"'Course. My wife sent me the picture of our son, Richard. Want to see him?"

"Sure"

George didn't look up from his letters. "Are you sure he's yours?" He got a kick in the shin from Frank.

Frank gave me the picture and used a dreamy, father's voice to ask, "Isn't he handsome?" I had never heard him use that tone of voice before.

I looked down to the picture and saw a baby that is...a small version of Frank Perconte. "He's a mini-Frank." I blurted out loud.

George snorted. "Like Frank is not mini enough." Both Frank and I smack his head fondly.

"How old is he?" I asked.

"About six months, I think." Frank said, staring down at the picture. "I miss him. Is that possible, to miss someone you never met?" He sounded sad. Frank had married his sweetheart, Evelyn, while on furlough from Camp Benning. She was pregnant when he left to go overseas. It must be very hard for both of them, separated thousands of miles as newlyweds.

George scoffed. "He's your spawn. Of course you miss him. I can imagine it already." He lifted his hands and made a frame with his hands. "You'll spoil the boy and your missus rotten to make up for the years you've been away from them. And I'll be the cool uncle that will happily corrupt your son just to annoy you." He nodded, seemingly satisfied of his description of the future and his future job to corrupt Frank's son.

I can see Frank's mood lighten up. George subtly said that "You're going to survive this godforsaken war and you will meet your son and you will live happily ever after with your family."

This is the best quality of George Luz. Behind his company clown mask and sarcastic commentary, he was the most sincere, kind, and caring human being I had ever known. Jolly Old Saint Luz would make sure everyone is happy and never expecting anything in return.

And this was the reason why I was falling in love with George Luz. Not that I would say it out loud in front of him. I would never hear the end of it.

* * *

Here comes December 1st. Our division gave us a day off to Reims, a city nineteen miles from our camp. I really wanted to see the famous cathedral of Reims. Meanwhile, George wanted to taste the champagne ("I've never tasted that bubbly wine.") since Reims was the capital of the Champagne region. The others from Easy just wanted to get some drinks and, if they were lucky, find some women "to have some fun with". And believe me, libidinous G.I.s would screw anything with a skirt.

At exactly 0800, I heard a pounding at my door. "Hey, Becca! How many layers of makeup do you have to put on your face? Hurry up, Missy! Or we're gonna miss the bus!" George shouted from outside of my room.

I had gotten awake super early today so I could properly set my hair and wear some makeup. George _said_ this was a date, so...I was never good in these two activities, so it took time to do it right.

Even though military encouraged the feminine appearance of service women (they even highly recommended bright red lipstick!) in consideration to boost the soldiers' spirits, I only wear face powder and pale pink lipstick for my daily activities. I also never curled my hair. I usually put it up in a tight bun just above my neck. I preferred functionality and practicality above appearance. I was here to do my job, not to please the soldiers' eyes. The Colonel never voiced his disagreement, so I thought that it worked just fine.

"Didn't your Ma tell you that patience is a virtue?" I shouted back. "I'm looking for my gloves. This dress uniform should be worn with gloves. The regulation said that."

WAC had issued new off duty uniform on May 1944. It's a one piece dress made from wool with scarf, gloves, detachable belt and brown leather pumps. It should come with the overcoat, but I hadn't received it yet, even though it's already December. So I used my old WAAC overcoat. I took the time to practice walking in the pumps, since I usually used low heels oxford-style shoes or field shoes. Why is it so goddamn arduous for being a woman?!

 _Where is that glov-ah, there it is._ Now, lipstick. Should I wear my regular pink one or the official Army approved red?

"Since when did you comply with the Army Dress Regulation?" George shouted through the door. "You've never even curled your hair or worn that lipstick!"

The red lipstick it was. Wait; did he pay attention to my hairdo and lipstick? The hell with it! Woman up, Jones! He told you to doll up, didn't he? So I applied the bright red lipstick with extreme caution. I desperately hoped that I didn't look like a clown.

Okay...inhale...exhale...here we go.

 _Why the hell am I so nervous? It's not like we're going to be alone. We're still going to be with the men, for God's sake!_

"Are you meditating or some-"

George is never able to finish his sentence because I opened the door and then he's standing there gaping at me. _Shit! Am I wearing too much makeup? Do I look like a clown?_

I started to feel a cold sweat trickling down my back. I fiddled with my purse; _don't you dare look at him!_ "Is something wrong? Do I look like a clown?" I asked, not looking at him.

I heard a clicking noise that apparently is the sound of George's teeth clicking when he closed his mouth. He swallowed before saying, "God! You're beautiful!" And then he looked shocked and added, "Holy shit! I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Needless to say, I don't need a rouge to make an effect of "rosy cheek" on my face. George cleared his throat and offered his hand, smiling his gorgeous and warm smile. "Shall we, Princess?"

This time, I take it and said, "Don't let our golden carriage wait for us any longer, Frog."

* * *

"Becca, I didn't know you could wear makeup!" Malarkey said with surprise.

Joe smacked his head. "She's a woman, you Mick. Of course she wears that. You look good, Becca. It's nice to see you wear a dress. I'm getting bored seeing you wearing trousers or fatigue."

"Thanks, Lieb," I winked, understanding that he knew the meaning of his shortened name.

He smiled and asked, "How did George react when he saw you?"

George sheepishly scratched his head. "Eh... kinda speechless for a moment." I valiantly fight the blush that is threatening to creep up my cheek.

Joe laughed. "There must be a medal for rendering George Luz speechless." George gave him a salute of only his middle finger.

"You're making me miss my Faye," Skip said dreamily. "She's as beautiful as you, Becca." He took a picture from his pocket and started looking at it. He sighed deeply, causing Alex to groan and say, "Oh no, not again."

"Lookit here." Joe Toye said. "You're really a sight for sore eyes, Becca." He came up with Babe. Bill was still in the hospital since getting shot by a sniper in Holland, so, according to George, "We're taking turns babysitting our ginger baby. Consider this to clean his mind from Bill's bad influence."

George, who apparently wasn't very happy with the other men thinking that I was pretty, snapped, "Babe, close your goddamn mouth! You'll catch flies; and they carry disease." Babe's teeth click when he closed his mouth. His face turned as red as his hair. I started having difficulties maintaining a straight face.

 _Go Team Jones._


	10. Chapter 10 - George

A/N: Thanks to K-yers (again) for her edit

Please review ^_^

* * *

A road trip with Easy Company was anything you could imagine of a bunch of dysfunctional kids traveling without their parents. It's loud, full of profanities (Becca and I have great fun counting Joe's "fuck" utterances per minute: 4.25 fucks per minute. A new record), gambling (how they manage that in a bumpy ride is beyond me), and endless rant of "Are we there yet?" from my midget (Frank's body would already be half outside the bus if Becca didn't talk sense to me).

Once we arrived at Reims, Becca wanted to see the Cathedral and I wanted to take her in a café to have some private talks. But the bastards dragged me and Becca to the nearest bar. I glanced apologetically at her to say "Well, there goes our date." But she just shrugged and smiled, as if she says "That's fine with me." It's eerie to realized that we were now able to communicate silently, as if our brains were connected or something.

The bar is full with American serviceman, but I can see some Red Cross Volunteers, nurses and local girls. It's some kind of miracle we found empty tables to fit all of us. Toye and Babe bring over several beers and ordered sandwiches for us. When our food arrived (sandwiches with real fucking ham with egg, fresh lettuce, and tomatoes), the men devour it like they never eat for years. I can't blame them. Even though food in Camp is so much better and humane than the rations, it still resembled slop sometimes.

"Oh my God; I want to marry this sandwich." Frank sighed; the half-masticated ham clearly visible in his mouth since he's talking and chewing in the same time.

"That'll be polygamy for you, Frank." Babe said, also mid-chewing. A piece of egg fell to his uniform. He picked and ate it. Malarkey practically inhaled the sandwich while Skip and Alex were throwing tomatoes to each other.

"Honey, can you teach the kids some manners? I thought they had been house trained." I asked Becca.

 _Holy motherfucking shit! Did I just call her HONEY?! You need a better relationship between brain and speech, George Luz. I blamed the beer._

"They take after you too much; they're a lost cause." She deadpanned. But I think I can trace a hint of red on her cheek.

Frank scoffed, which propelled bits of sandwich everywhere. "Shut it, marrieds!"

I smacked his head.

"You guys want more beer?" Becca asked, standing up. Probably to ease the slightly awkward situation.

"I'll go with you." I said, also standing up. The men snickered at me. I glared right back. "What? She'll need help to bring those beers, assholes!" Okay…maybe I sounded a little bit defensive when I said that.

I instinctively put my hand on the small of her back to guide her to the bar. I could feel a slight shiver from her. But she didn't say anything or slap me on the face, so I think that's fine.

 _Go Team Luz._

* * *

"Huit bières, s'il vous plait." Becca said to the bartender.

 _Damn!_ This girl never ceases to amaze me. "I didn't know you could speak French." I said.

"It's a 'customary' in my ' _society_ '," She said, making air quotation with her fingers. "Right up there with playing piano and able to chew with your mouth closed."

Didn't that make you feel inferior? Well, except for that 'chew with your mouth closed' part. I could do that just fine.

When the bartender put eight beers in front of us, I'm starting to wonder how we're going to bring those to our table. Before I could ask to borrow some tray from the bartender, I hear an unmistakably drunk voice.

"Hey, baby." The drunk voice slurred. "You have a _very_ nice ass. Wanna go out with me, doll?"

 _Fuck!_ The drunk bastard wanted to make a move to Becca!

Becca apparently felt that I had started to tense so she held my wrist and said calmly to the fucker, "That was the most disgusting pick up line I've ever heard. Nevertheless, thanks for complimenting my glutes."

The drunk blinked slowly, as if he was trying to understand her words. He looked at me, then at my screaming eagle patch, and sneered, "Jeeezusss, you're going with this guy? A screaming eagle? Hey, buddy…" He turned to his equally drunk friend, who had been standing nearby. "What's that eagle screaming for?"

His dumbass friend grinned and started screaming, "Help! Help! Help!"

 _Well, fuck. They're from the 82nd._

"I can't believe the Army recruits from the shallow end of the gene pool." Becca deadpanned.

I've got to remind her not to use complicated vocabulary if she wanted to talk with dumbasses like that; especially when they are drunk. But even when they're drunk, they can understand that was an insult.

"Bitch!"

Okay…that was _way_ out of line. I really wanted to punch their faces into unrecognizable shapes and leave them in some alley in a puddle of questionable hygiene and origin; but I promised the Colonel to take care of Becca. I had to keep her out of trouble.

"Watch your language, mate." I said. "She can kick an impressive amount of ass." I mentally patted my back since I managed to say all of that calmly. Becca was still holding my hand. I think that helped too.

"I can have a whore like your bitch here anywhere with less hassle." The drunk slurred.

I conclude I could kill this man in 25 different ways: 9 ways empty handed and 16 ways using various things in this bar. Promises to the Colonel be dammed!

"Good for you, buddy." I said with barely contained anger. "There's a joint not far from here, called Lulu's. I heard the whores are cheap as shit, just like your mom."

He lunged at me screaming, "Sonnovabitch!"

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

"You are a stupid man, George Luz."

"In case you forgot, I was defending your honor, Princess."

"In case _you_ forgot," she parroted, "That man was drunk so of course his brain was in his ass. We're lucky the MP's arresting them, not us."

We're lucky, all right. Fucker #1 had thrown a drunken punch to my face and I could dodge it. But it turned out that his buddy (Fucker #2) had a more accurate perception even though he was equally drunk and he successfully landed a punch in my face. Easy men had immediately decided to help me, especially Joe. I could've sworn he was grinning, finally having the opportunity to kick some 82nd's ass. Fucker #1 and Fucker #2's friends (The Fuckers) apparently were looking for the same opportunity. Ergo, the battle between 101st and 82nd that escalated into a full bar brawl. It was _epic_.

But since Easy had the advantage of sobriety, we managed to sneak out from the bar before the MPs came to restore order. We gleefully watched The Fuckers being hauled to the MP's truck from the side of the road. Babe and Skip even waved at them wholeheartedly.

"Relax, Becca." Joe said while lighting his cigarette. "Those fuckers got a 'KICK ME' sign attached in their forehead for all the gods to see. I was just doing them a favor."

"It's too bad I left my brass knuckle at the Camp." Toye grumbled.

"That was sooo great, guys! Can we do that again?!" Babe asked cheerfully. We glared at him and his face reddened and he mumbled, "Sorry."

"Make sure you guys pay visit to Roe. I'm sure he will treat those bruises without ratting you out to Dike." Becca said. "By the way, George, how do you know there's a joint called Lulu's here? You seemed very familiar with the place; even know the…um…price of it's…ahem...workers." Her face was mostly serious, but she had this amused glint in her eyes.

 _Oookaaay…Danger close! Evacuate! EVACUATE!_ The boys were not helping either. They're snickering at me; waiting for my answer.

"I heard that from this bunch of dick-measuring paratroopers during the regular knitting circle yesterday." I replied smoothly. _Ha! Suck on that, motherfuckers!_

Frank piped in. "But just don't let Bill know about that joint, Babe. Or I can guarantee his dick will want to make introduction to all its 'workers'." He completed this with exaggerate air quotes.

I scoffed. "If that happened, I will be the first person to congratulate our beloved Wild Bill when he's promoted from Gonorrhea to Syphilis."

We all laughed at that. But from judging Babe's expression, I think he would make sure Bill knew about the place. That ginger baby is a mischievous little shit. And I'm betting my ass that Bill would 'inspect' the place as soon as he went AWOL from the hospital.

* * *

Our _shenanigans_ apparently were dull in comparison with the other events during that day. There was an apparent "contest" among the G.I.s to see how many windows they could punch out with their fists. Bar brawls happened almost every 7 minutes. Drunken G.I.s were everywhere.

Most of the men who volunteered to the Army were from poor families. Those poor motherfuckers had never tasted champagne or any high class liquor before and now they drank it like they drank water; celebrating that they were still alive. They got wasted in no time.

And wasted G.I.s were the most hilarious thing you would ever see. We saw angsty G.I.s (calling their dead friends, which we could commiserate), naked G.I.s (Becca closed her self-declared pure and innocent eyes, but she grinned and mumbled "That was small."), narrative G.I.s (Joe mused, "I wonder what would Webster rant about if he was drunk.", which Becca responded with, "He'd recite Homer's Odyssey; sometimes in Ancient Greek." And we then responded with raised eyebrows), and other entertaining antics.

Local women complained that they scarcely go across the street without being approach by a libidinous G.I. Somehow, some G.I.s seemed unable to tell the difference between a prostitute and a housewife. "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?" was a staple conversation starter to anything with a skirt. Yeah…we're that desperate in the sex department.

Needless to say, that the Division had enough of the men's behavior. We're here to liberate those poor oppressed people, not to fuck them up. Ergo, the 101st has ordered 5-miles marches, parades, calisthenics, all that boring stuff to work off our excess energy. Unluckily for Easy, all of these boring activities were led by our own Foxhole Norman. That man was seriously a freak lovechild of a donkey and chicken shit.

But since my job description as the Company Clown mandated me to cheer up the men, I decided to map out and lead the execution of nonsensical activities to release our pent up energy. Said activities are (in order of success rate): refined the regulation and scoring system for Grab Fanny (with some help from Frank), singing the dirty version of Moonlight Serenade in the mess hall (with help from Smokey), and watching movies with Becca (We watch Seven Sinners 13 times. I did John, She did Marlene. We only kicked outside the theatre four times) among other things. Anything to distract the boys from a Troglodyte (Becca really need to think for more common nickname) named Dike.

* * *

We still had access to booze from the Red Cross club. But mainly there's shitty beer. So when Bill (he's AWOL from the hospital as predicted) is able to smuggle a case of champagne from the city, where he paid an "official visit" to Lulu's (also as predicted), we celebrate like there is no tomorrow. Thanks to Christenson, who equated champagne to soda pop, we drank the bubbly wine from our canteen cups; full to the brim. And then chaos ensues. Apparently, we didn't learn from the drunken G.I. in Reims.

The next day, we have the worst hangover ever. I was walking to the toilet while resisting the urge to vomit when I hear Becca calling.

"George!"

"For the love of anything holy...can you not with the shouting, Princess?"

"I CAN'T!" The little shit purposely shouts right in my ear. I can feel a fresh wave of headache and nausea roll over my head. And she's grinning.

"I can kill you…in 10 different ways…even…when I'm hung over…but…sorry…I…have…a date…with the toilet." And I run my sorry ass to the toilet.

After the obligatory make out session with the toilet and cleaning myself up, I decided that I was presentable enough for chow. Becca was already there. When she saw me sitting with other Easy men, she walked toward us and said out loud, "Morning, Gents! How are you this morning?"

We all groaned, clutching our heads. Bill growled, "George, I will kill your missus. I swear to fucking God!"

Becca, never missing a beat, said cheekily, "Good morning to you too, Bill. Did you meet an unfortunate female stupid enough not to run the other way immediately for you to screw? Maybe you won't be this grumpy."

Bill blinked. He opened his mouth and closed it again. I sighed. "Becca…do not use complicated sentence to drunken or hungover individual. Our brains cannot process that fast in this state."

She smiled that smile which I started to equate it with something warm, safety, and sunlight "Here; I scrounged Aspirin for you guys." She placed a bottle full of Aspirin on the table. She then said directly to me before she leaves, "Tonight they will play Seven Sinners again, you know."

When she had gone far enough, Joe turned to me and said, "If you fuck her up, I will personally kill you. She's a godsend."

I could not agree more.


	11. Chapter 11 - Becca

Hi All ^_^

Sorry for the late update. And thank you for all new follower.

This chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

* * *

"Excuse me. Can I see Sweet?" I asked a mechanic in the workshop.

The workshop was busier than usual. Since the Division received the news that Germans made an offensive attack at the Ardennes, the Transportation Corps has been acted quickly to call all available trucks and trailers throughout France and hurry-up the maintenance works to be ready to transport the Division to Bastogne. The higher-ups still seemed pretty confidence that the Infantry can hold the line, since the Intel predicted that the German forces facing the VIII Corps at four divisions. And that was VIII Corps's problem; First Army's problem. Not Airborne's problem. But still, we have to prepare for the worst.

"Sweet? Over there." he pointed a truck on the far end of the workshop "Hey Sweet! Ya got a Miss lookin' fo' ya!"

Sweet (his real name actually Jed Williams) looked up and grinned his pearly white teeth (Frank would be jealous). Like most of the Transportation Corps crew, he was a Black man.

"Mornin', Miss Jones. Lookin' fo' yer present? Finished it this morning."

"Please… call me Becca, Sweet."

"Nah, Miss. That will be not appropriate."

I sighed "If you say so, Sweet. So, can I see it?"

"Wait a minute, Miss."

Several minutes later he come back and gave me the thing I've been asked him to engrave several days ago. It's a Zippo lighter in black crackle finished with rounded bottom, as usual in this time of year. It's a regular Army issue but I asked Sweet to personalized it by engrave it. On one side, it's engraved with Jump Wings badge with two stars on the base of each wing, representing Normandy and Holland Campaign. On the other side, it's engraved with George's name and serial number on the cap and a Screaming Eagle on the body. It's perfect.

"Oh, Sweet…This is very nice. You really have a talent." I admired the lighter for a minute before finally I put it to my pocket.

"Thanks, Miss. That is very kind of ya." His face was beaming.

"No, Sweet. I'm the one who should say thank you. And for that…here're cigarettes. For you and your friends."

"Ya don' have to do that, Miss."

"I insist." and shoved six packs of cigarettes into his hand.

"Thank you, Miss. And I hope he like it." Sweet said kindly.

"Wish me luck." I smiled and nodded at him before I walked back to Easy's barrack.

I did cross my fingers, silently hoped George like my gift. The question now is 'how to give it to him?'

* * *

"Hey Becca, here's another one. Why was Hitler hit with a baseball?"

"I don't know, George. Because he's a racist?"

"No…because he did nazi it coming."

I chuckled "You're one crazy Portuguese."

Skip hollered with awful German accent without looking up from his cards. "Stop with ze Nazi jokes, zey make me führious!" And we roared with laughter.

We're playing poker with Malarkey, Bill, Babe and Skip and George have been doing this Hitler jokes and impersonation for an hour. My stomach already hurt from laughing. But apparently, George still has full supply of it. After they finally get rid of their hang over, they're back to their mischievous self. Nobody would think that they are elite squad trained to kill Germans.

Skip waved his hand "Wait…wait…wait…I got another one. How did Hitler get rid of aristocratic Germans?"

We all shake our heads. And then he did his hideous German accent again "Von by von"

We throw him cigarettes butts.

Malarkey piped in "I also know one. What's a Kraut's favorite number?"

"Nein!" We shout at once. We laugh at him because he's practically pouting.

"That's old stuff, mate. But thanks for trying anyway." George pats his back.

"Hey Becca, hear any news from higher ups?" Bill asked while shuffling the cards.

It has its perks working for the Colonel and Easy men know this. I'm their gossip queen.

"Well, General Taylor flew back to the States for some conference. Brig. Gen. McAuliffe takes the charge." I said

"Thank fucking God!", "Hallelujah!", and "But I haven't had a chance to shove my boots in his ass!" were the responses.

"And Dike?" Babe asked hopefully.

"He's somebody's favorite at the division, so he's not leaving anytime soon." I explained.

"The only passable officer we got is only Buck. Thank God, he came back from the hospital. Foley is okay but he's not experienced. And Peacock? Jesus! He'll get lost even though he had a map to locate his ass. How the Army doesn't realize that calculating distance and reading maps requires higher math skills than counting fingers and toes?!" Babe ranted.

Malarkey said glumly "And we haven't received our winter uniforms. If they send us to the front right now, we're colossally fucked."

Skip calmly said "I won't worry anything as long as besides me is a paratrooper. Besides, I'm pretty sure we're God's instrument to kick Hitler's ass. We will be just fine."

Malarkey "But we had a shithead for command."

George smiled confidently "We're badass paratrooper extraordinaire. We're the best. The sights of this patch alone," George pointed the Screaming Eagle patch on his shoulder "makes most soldiers run back to their Momma's titties." Then he added "You see, Easy depends on us now … Toccoa men. With a…what you called him, Becca? Troglodyte? Yeah…With a Troglodyte as our CO, we have to make sure his dumbness is not contaminated the kids. We show them replacement, officers and enlisted alike, what an elite paratrooper should be."

"What's Troglodyte?" Babe asked. His brows furrowed.

"Cave man…more or less." I said.

The men nodded their approval of Dike's new nickname. Malarkey mumble "Learn something new every day."

"That's why you have to do whatever we said, Babe. You're our little baby boy." Bill said to Babe.

"I'm just two weeks younger than you, asshole." Babe grumbles.

"Yeah, but you're acting like five years younger. And I'm your Sergeant, god dammit! Don't call me asshole, asshole!" And Bill smacked Babe's head; their usual loving gesture.

At that time, Joe entered the barrack. "Aw...look at you guys…precious little assholes. Regular knitting circle?" Almost everyone flipped him off. Joe just grinned as if that's the exact reaction he hoped. He molested Malarkey to find lighter, light his cigarette with his usual cocky manners and asked "Who's winning?"

"The latest round? Malarkey" I said. Malarkey was significantly cheerful today since he's starting to win in poker after disastrous games several days before that make him blown three months' pay.

Joe smirked and shoved Babe who sits next to me so he can plopped his butt right next to me. George who sat across of me raised one of his brows. Joe purposely ignored George's confusion and said "Really? That 'Luck of the Irish' must be starts to work, right Mick? By the way, Becca. Thanks for the Aspirin this morning. How you can talk over Doc to give you a full bottle? He's kinda a loner. But do you know he whipped Captain Winters and Welsh's butt when Moose got shot? He can be a badass if he wants to."

He then casually wrapped my shoulder with his left hand and leaned a bit. This cocky Jew must be up to something because he's grinning and occasionally glance to George. Said Portuguese's forehead furrowed deeper and his lips tightened. He really had to learn to school his expression in public. But I couldn't stop my mischievous self to play along with Joe. George's jealous façade was too adorable.

"No worries, Joe. Doc is nice actually. I promised him to sneak some medical supply for him, so he 'accidentally looked the other way' when I took the Aspirin. And he cares about you, guys. He keeps scrounging medical supply for Easy, you know. 'Just in case we're sent to the front anytime soon' he said. Oh…And I found his accent is sexy. Especially… when he's talking French." I fanned myself and winked to Joe. The men laugh. George literally chewed his cigarette. He looked more and more like a grumbling puppy.

Babe then said "And he's brave too, right Becca? I mean… Can you imagine? In the front line, under fire, without any gun to protect yourself, unselfishly helping other soldiers…"

Bill ruffled his hair "Careful there, Babe. Or we'll think you have a crush with the Doc."

We laugh at Babe's squawked "'am not!"

When the laugh subsides, Joe asked me "Hey Becca. For Christmas football match with The Deuce, will you cheer for me? I'll take off my shirt for you."

George chocked on his smoke. Joe snickered. This Jew was evil!

George stood up abruptly and mumbled "'ll go to the theatre." And he walked out the barrack before we can reply with anything.

I smacked Joe up in the head "You little tease!"

He laughed and said "Mission accomplished. Go get your frog." He had the audacity to slap my butt and give me a shoo-ing gesture. I flipped him off and he laugh again.

George was not walked very far from the barrack when I caught him.

"George? Are you mad? You realize Joe was only kidding, right? He's messing with you."

He shrugged. His hands were in his pocket.

"I just…" but he didn't finish his sentence.

"Are you jealous?"

"Am not…" but he paused and scratched his head "Well...honestly? A little. I mean…you're pretty, Becca...and smart… and can speak French... and…I'm the total opposite of you. " His face reddened "Look…I'm sorry, okay? I know I don't have the right to…"

I blurted out "I don't mind you're jealous" and now it's my turn to do an impersonation of a strawberry.

George Luz's jealous for me. That's definitely goes to my win column regardless his comment about how opposite we are. I'll deal about that later. For now, I allowed my inner self flails its arms with joy and doodles hearts and stars in my imaginary diary.

George smiled sheepishly "We really have bastards for friends, aren't we?"

He's right. Easy's teasing and 'caring' antics are sometimes borderline annoying. I chuckled "Yeah, they are the worst band of cupids ever."

George laughed "Holy Shit! I just imagined Joe in cupid costume. That was one scary image."

"Hey George…Becca…wait up!" Skip run toward us.

"Where's the other?" George asked.

Skip sighed "Still playing. I asked Malark to come with me, but I think he didn't hear anything I said. He's too deep in the game."

George wrapped his hand to Skips' shoulder "Come on then…I'll do John, Becca will do Marlene, as usual. And you can do Broderick…or Anna Lee."

* * *

Strategic placement is an important thing. As soon as we entered the theatre, George quickly scanned the area of operation and 'decidedly' sat behind Toye and Lipton. Skip, fearing Toye's brass knuckles if he tagged along George's plan, decided to sit several rows back and finally sat beside Frank. Smart move actually.

When the movie started, George and I dutifully carry out our role and achieved our objective in a relatively short time. And when George and I join forces, lo and behold, even the ever patience Mama Lipton (as George fondly called him) can be pissed. That sort of goes in the win column, along with a successful 40 points of Grab-fanny to one respectable officer (Long story. The operation also credited Captain Nixon as the mastermind). Toye was looked murderous, but that's his default look, so it's not a big deal. As long as Toye is not using his brass knuckles, we're safe.

But then two officers were entering the hall. The movie stopped and we're instructed to move out for our next mission. Apparently, SS Panzer Divisions broke through in Ardennes. They overran America's First Army. All passes are canceled. Say goodbye to weekend in Paris and Christmas football game with the 502nd.

George looked at me. He didn't say anything but I understand what he wanted to say to me.

"I got to go, George. Will you meet me outside the regimental supply office in 15 minutes?" I asked

"Okay" he said "Becca…do you have any winter clothing?"

"Neither of us has, George. It's an Army-wide problem."

"But…"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be in the safety of regimental HQ. Go scrounge anything for you and Easy. You'll spend a lot of time in the open, so I suggest bringing canvas or tarpaulin with you. I'll see you in 15 minutes, okay?" And I run outside the theater without waiting for his answer.

What followed next was a huge commotion. And slightly frantic, thanks to Dike's panic attack for a whole wrong reason. He's panicking because Col. Strayer hasn't return from England, instead of panicking because his company didn't have a sufficient ammunition and supply to hold a front line during winter time _(He shouldn't even got panicked in the first place. He's the CO for Christ's sake!)._

We scrounged and packed anything we can. I help regimental supply officer to distribute anything we had but it still not enough.

"Becca, there's Luz from Easy looking for you outside."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll be back in 5 minutes."

"Your job's done here, Becca. You can go pack your things after you meet him. Oh…and you can give him Easy's radio spare parts? It's on the box over there. He's Easy radioman right?"

"Yes, Sir."

I grab the spare parts box and another box of supply and hurriedly walk outside to meet George.

"Come with me." I said to him. And we walk until we find a place private enough to talk.

"Here's radio spare part for Easy." I give the spare part box to him. "And this is for the boys." I give him another box of cigarettes, gloves, scarfs and bandages. "It's all I can save for you guys."

"Becca…this is…thanks…the boys will appreciate this."

"And…um…this is for you." I gave him the Zippo lighter. "I know it's not as valuable as the chess board you gave me. But it's the only thing I can think off right now, since you're smoking like breathing oxygen…um…so…yeah…Sorry." _I should really shut my mouth right about now._

He took the lighter. His thumb grazed the engravings slowly. His voice shook a little bit when he said "This…is…so much more valuable than that chess board, Becca. This is beautiful…I…thank you." And he smile those smile that makes my stomach churned pleasantly.

"Be careful out there, all right George? It looks like the Germans utilize all their resources for this offensive."

"Don't worry, Becca. We're paratroopers. We're the elite."

"Are you saying that you're invincible?"

"No…we're not invincible. But…you might be bored hearing this…we're the best damn company in the ETO."

"Don't get over confidence. It'll make you reckless. Because you're not expendable, George. Especially you." I lowered my head to hide my tears that threatens to fall out. _I can't believe I said that even though that's the truth._

"Becca…" George put the boxes on the ground and hugged me. And now the tears slowly run down my cheeks.

"Becca...Don't worry, okay." He wiped my tears with his thumb. He looked at me in the eyes and after something that looked like steeling himself, he asked "Sorry for asking you this…maybe this is not the right time…but…Can I…Can I kiss you?" His voice was unsure and his face reddened as soon as he said that.

Well, me too actually. Because, dear God, I really want he kiss me too.

"Um…I believe the correct sentence is 'May I kiss you'"

 _What the actual fuck, Becca? You stupid…STUPID girl! The boy wants to kiss you and you correct his grammar?_

George chuckled "Well…sorry, Princess. I don't speak Harvard-ese. So…May I kiss you?"

I smiled sheepishly. I pretty sure snow can melt in my face since my cheek was felt extremely hot. "Yes…You may kiss me, George."

And next thing I feel was his lips on mine.

* * *

Reviews are loved ^_^


	12. Chapter 12 - George

Hi All,

Thank you BobtheFrog for your review. And also thank your for new follower ^_^

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

* * *

It's not like I never kiss a girl before. But this one…this one is different.

Have you ever met a girl…no…a woman and your brain screaming 'that girl is gonna be my wife' since day one? And you will do literally anything to get her, even though you realize that she's _way_ out of your league? And when you finally allowed to kiss said woman…

"Hey, George! GEORGE! Where the fuck did your head go?"

I felt tapping in my helmet. And then the bittering cold. And then ambient noise of paratroopers gossiping and trucks rumbling filtered in.

Huh?

What? Where?

Oh right…I'm in the truck…another road trip to where-the fuck-ever.

"Did you and Mommy have a fight again?" Frank asked. I must be done something very bad in previous live when this 27 year old midget (and already a father, for fuck's sake) decided to adopt Becca and me as his parents.

"What? No! Why?" Apparently my brain function has not fully recovered yet after that kiss.

"So it's must be something good then…Come on…spill!" Bill smirked. _Christ!_ Even on the brink of war, Bill's gossiping habit didn't faltered.

"No!" I said firmly. Some memories were meant to keep for ourselves.

Joe fucking Liebgott shouted from the far end of the truck "You kissed her, didn't ya?" which successfully rendered the entire truck occupants silent.

 _Holy Mother of God and Sweet Baby Jesus on a cradle! Please give me strength to refrain myself from kick out this Jew's lily-white-ass from this moving truck._

"Mind your fucking bladder before you're pissing all over yourself!" was the only thing I manage to say. Which apparently only confirm Joe's guess.

Bill guffawed and slapped my back "Good for you, George! I almost thought you don't have the balls to kiss her. Awww…both of you will be the sweetest couple ever. Even looking at you two will give me cavities."

 _Oh, just kill me now._

"Okay…One: Kissing doesn't requires balls. It required mutually-willing-participants' lips. Emphasis on 'mutually-willing-participants'. Two: At least cavities are not contagious. Unlike you, Gonorrhea, passing diseases onto unsuspecting females. Emphasis on 'passing diseases' and 'unsuspecting females'. And Three: Congratulation on you promotion to Syphilis or Chlamydia or what-the-fuck-ever. I bet you'll be pissing needles anytime soon."

* * *

"Easy is officially and colossally fucked up" would be the perfect tagline if someone in Hollywood wanted to make a movie about current situation in Bastogne.

As soon as we made the tail gate jump, my poor little maggot (a.k.a Frank) said "Holy shit! We have to fight in this condition? How the fuck I can pull my trigger if my fingers are frozen."

"Put your fingers on your armpit. It's the warmest." I said.

"Why I should trust your advice? It never did me any good."

I rolled my eyes. "Because you can't put your finger in your crotch. That will be the final proof of your perversion tendency."

"Fuck you! And stop talking educated, will ya!"

According to 'Perconte Comma Frank: Language of', "Fuck you" means "I Love you", so I let it pass. But about that "talk educated" thing...Perhaps that kiss transferred some of Becca's intelligence to me? Well, that's good. More reason to kiss her then.

 _Stop grinning like a pervert!_

 _Stop fucking grinning like a pervert!_

 _Ah shit!_

Minutes later, my grin evaporated quickly and I decided that "War is hell" was the most appropriate tagline. Hundreds of American soldiers in various states, or what's left of it, were retreating from the forest. The smell, the sight, the soldiers' voices. It's like watching a real-live horror movie. The retreating soldiers keep telling us to turn around. But not one Easy man gives a fuck to hear that. Bill started to grab any ammo from the retreating soldiers, followed by the rest of us. Anything we can scrounge.

I saw Colonel Sink talked to Captain Winters and Nixon. Becca stood beside the Colonel, holding a briefcase. She wore her old coat, the one she wore for our 'failed date', and a scarf. Like the rest of us, she's not wearing any winter clothing. But at least she will be inside Regimental HQ not in the open like me. She met my eyes and smiled minutely. I nodded. I felt a strange pang in my chest when I think that there's a possibility this will be the last time I saw her.

Bill put his hand in my shoulder "She'll be alright, George. She'll be in the city with the Colonel, right?"

"Yeah. I just got this bad feeling, Bill. I can't explain it. Not just about her. But for all of us."

Bill lowering his voice into a whisper "Don't let the babies hear you. Winters cannot be with us even though I bet my ass he will do anything to fight alongside us again. Easy now depends on us. You know what to do. Do your magic. We're paratroopers. We're supposed to be in the worst condition there is."

I saw Becca for one last time before she climbed back to the Colonel's jeep and watched them drive back to the city. I shoulder my rifle and adjusting my radio on my back then start to walk to the forest.

 _Fear is poison. It's contagious. Ignore the fear. Don't think. Stop and think will kill you and people around you._

My brothers need me and I will do _anything_ not to let them down. We will not fall back. We have beaten these fuckers twice before in Normandy and Holland, and we will again. Currahee, Baby!

145 men and officers of Easy Company enter the forest of Ardennes that night. Nobody know how many men will get out.

* * *

The activities in in the front line were always the same. Freezing, fight the Krauts, freezing, holding the line as best as our ass can, freezing your fucking ass, digging foxholes in a freezing soil, freezing, shelled to bits by the Krauts, fucking freezing again, got lost in the patrol with Peacock, freezing, eat Joe Domingo's rancid ass beans while singing praise of Dike's various level of stupidity, freezing our nuts, losing a brother, freezing, try not to lose your mind, and back to fucking freezing again. Gossips said that it was Belgium's coldest winter in thirty years. How's the fuck that for luck?!

The "try not to lose your mind" part was the most difficult to handle. Especially if you risk your life in the hand of shit-brained and constantly-MIA CO like Dike. We have to taking care our own ass.

There's no Toccoa men left in the Officer level. The remaining enlisted Toccoa men were struggling to filter the retardation that come from our CO and dumbass junior officers. Every time I saw some sane-enough Lieutenants and NCOs attend briefing with Dike, I could tell, judging from their faces, that the response to bullshits that spewed from Dike's mouth would be something along the lines of _"eh?"_ (Lipton's), _"is this shithead for real?"_ (Buck's), _"un-fucking-believable"_ (Foley's) and _"can I shoot your head and fed your body parts to the Krauts?"_ (Bill's).

And then there were the babies. The replacement kids. Their hurry-up training didn't forge them hard enough (mentally and physically) to face near-constant pressures from the Krauts.

The Army seriously had to raise our paygrade for make us dealing with these shits.

* * *

I shared foxhole with Frank and this midget was starting his ritual after-chow-tooth-brushing when Captain Winters and Nixon come to our foxhole. Winters, albeit he has to babysit the whole Battalion, refuse to stay at Battalion HQ in the city, and stay in the front line with the boys, take part in freezing our sorry asses together. Nixon always on his side, as a good best friend should be, hooking up regimental office and the front line.

"Good evening, gents. How's it going?" Winters asked.

"Snafu, Sir." I answered without thinking.

"Snafu?" Winters raised his eyebrows.

 _Oh, shit._ I forgot. There's no way in hell our esteemed Captain know abbreviation that contains profanity.

"That's 'Situation Normal: All Fucked Up', Dick. Are you living in a cave or something? The Army even made that cartoon…Private Snafu." Nixon explained.

The Captain scratched his nose "Sorry, Nix. Never watched it."

"Yeah, well. That cartoon was made to help illiterate enlisted men understand Army regulation anyway. I just watched it for entertainment. I love it when the stupid private blown up to pieces at the end because of his own stupidity. I used to imagine that was Sobel. Good times." Nixon shrugged innocently.

The Captain looked at his best friend incredulously. He just shook his head and said directly to me and Frank "Try to make some shut-eye while you can, okay? And George… thank you for your…um…entertaining impersonation at chow. That's very spot on."

I grinned like a mad man "Thank you, Sir. Appreciate that. I'll ask Skip to contribute for my next skit. I'm planning to impersonate Hitler's minions. You know…Himler, hinkle, frankle, wiener or some shi…sorry…something like that. And Skip can make the most hideous German accent. It'll be epic, Sir."

The Captain's smile was a hybrid of fatherly and angelic smile "Good. The boys need that. Thank you, George. Oh and one more thing. Colonel Sink came to CP this morning, accompanying Gen. McAuliffe. And…um…he let us know that a certain Miss Jones was doing a great job in Regimental HQ and sometimes helping administration of casualties in Regimental Aid Station in her spare time. She's sort of working nonstop and the Colonel's worried. Maybe her beloved friend…I mean…friends…can talk sense to her to take a break before she exhausted herself."

Winters' face was calm but his eyes glint that only can be interpreted as amused, if not teasing. Nixon tried to hide his grin by scratching his nose.

I was most certainly _not_ blushing. Suddenly, I have this urge to dig my foxhole deeper and buried myself in it. Frank was not helping by nudging me with his elbow and winking like a spastic maggot he was. _Fucker._

"I'll do my best, Sir. I'll send letter through Doc Roe when he's going to the city for medical supply."

"Oh I can deliver it now." Nixon said with too much eagerness "I have to go to the Regimental HQ anyway. Delivering recon report."

 _Like fuck._ "Okay, Sir. Would you mind take a minute?"

"Oh…take your time, George." Nixon winked unsubtly, but it's still classier than Frank's wink. He even gave me paper and pen. Becca was right. Easy Company was the worst band of cupids ever; even the Officers. But if that'll give them some kind of entertainment, so be it. I'll just make myself being used to be humiliated in front of people. I _definitely_ will ask for more pay rise!

I made the letter short.

 _Princess, I'm looking forward to see your Dad's monkey back home. So you'd better take care of yourself. That means you have to eat, sleep, and shit regularly._

 _George_.

"That's all? You are not romantic, aren't you?" Nixon shamelessly read my letter and didn't hide his disappointment. _And he protested he's not the Mommy?!_ Winters coughed to hide his embarrassment of his friend's antics.

"Come on, Nix. No need to embarrass the kid further." And he had to literally drag Nixon to the jeep.

* * *

Becca's reply letter came through Doc Roe several days later after he took Sisk to the city for being hit. Her letter was also short.

 _Frog, please be assured that I will took my rituals regularly as per your advice. I also look forward to take you to see my Dad's monkey. I hope we can play chess anytime soon. I miss to beat your sorry ass again._

 _Becca._

That's my girl. Cheeky as always.

At least reading her letter can lessen a little my current dreadful feeling, courtesy of following Peacock for recon patrol/ kraut-hunting.

"Peacock's leading right?" I asked Hoobler; praying somehow the universe took pity on me and replaced Peacock with someone with more competence.

Hoobler answered a short "Right." I can tell he's not happy himself.

I mumbled "Great. That asshole couldn't find a snowball in a blizzard."

One replacement kid, Julian – Babe's virgin ( _Holy Marry! – pun fucking intended_ ) friend, volunteered to be the lead scout. One thing to remember when you're a soldier was never EVER volunteering for anything. Thank God, Martin gave his most bitchy face (which was his default face, honestly) and ordered the kid to back in the line.

Doc wanted to join us but Martin told him to "stay back and keep your ass out of trouble" because this was "a combat patrol". I was not 100% agree with Martin this time. Every time we didn't have Roe on our side, something horribly wrong would happen. I'm not superstitious, but that's the fact. It's like Doc was our guardian angel, literally and figuratively. Doc didn't say anything. He just nod and squatted with his back on the tree. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes never leave our back. I can feel his gaze. He's not happy with this arrangement either.

All hell broke loose when Julian somehow walked in the front of the line and the Krauts hit him right in the neck. Martin and Babe desperately tried to reach him but fucking Krauts keep shooting at us. Bull and Christenson provided suppressing fire, but that just won't do. The Krauts still delivered heavy fire. Babe's desperately made several attempts to reach Julian, but all was failed.

I scrambled my radio and made contact to CP "One man down. Easy CP. Easy CP. I have one man down!" I spun around to look for Peacock but he's nowhere in sight. _Fuck!_ Lieutenant McUseless choose the worst time to disappear. Foley took the charge and order us to pull back. Martin has to pull Babe. Jesus! I can't imagine how Babe's feeling right now; leaving a dying friend behind.

One replacement kid got shot in front of me. Hobbler and I grabbed both his arms and drag him. Luckily we're already near the place where we left Doc to wait for us. Hoobler shouted "Doc! Doc!"

Doc already on his feet and rushed towards us. I made a contact with my radio "Easy CP. Easy CP. Lightning, over. I need an A-jeep at the OP."

The Krauts were still shooting at us. One man shouted "Eyes sharp! Eyes sharp!" It's chaos.

I helped Doc tending the kid. I said to him "Okay, I got you a jeep, Doc!" and then to the kid "Hang on, kiddo…we'll get you out." The kid nodded weakly. Jesus! I even didn't know what's his name.

Nixon come and ordered us to fall back. Babe's pleading to go back to save Julian. But both Martin and Nixon said no. It's too dangerous. Foley asked for Peacock. Nixon answered that Peacock was back at the CP. _What. The actual. Fuck?!_ That idiot left us to save his own ass?!

Doc still patched up the kid with bandages to stop the bleeding. Nixon shouted to us "Fall back! Get him outta here!"

I asked "You okay, Doc?"

He's not answered, still focus to the kid. His hands moved fast and methodically, as if he moved without thinking.

"We gotta go back, Doc." I urged. "Doc, we gotta move now, Doc! Come on! Let's go!" Doc gave morphine to the kid. I shouted now "Doc, now! Let's go!" Finally Doc stood up and lifted the kid on the armpit. I hold the kid's leg and together we carried him to CP.

That night, Winters join us at chow to give us support. Babe's so dejected, he just sat on the log and hugging his legs. I never saw him like this. Babe was our Ginger-Sunshine-Happy Puppy-Rainbow Shitting-Jitterbugging-Baby. Right now, it looked like he's drained and he got no colors left on him. It's heartbreaking to see a naïve kid can be changed into a hollow man in a matter of just few hours.

 _NO!_ I will not allow this. There's no way the Kraut can change _my men_ into hollowed dead men walking!

I'm the company clown, for fuck's sake.

Jolly Old Saint Luz to the rescue!

* * *

Reviews are loved ^_^

Thank you.


	13. Chapter 13 - Easy Company

Hi All,

Thank you BobtheFrog for your review *hugs*. I rewatched Bastogne when writing Chapter 12 and breaking my heart all over again.

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

This chapter will be a little different. It will take Easy men POV. I hope you like it ^_^

* * *

 **Babe**

I slept in Doc and Spina's foxhole last night. Spina was from Philly so talking with him gave me some sense of 'Home'. I couldn't talk to Bill because last night he was guarding the OP with Buck. Doc come later and force fed me with chocolate. An honest-to-God Belgian Chocolate. Unlike that piece of shit the Army called chocolate in our K-ration.

I vaguely remember I woke up in the middle of the night because Spina was singing. Well…humming… but still, he's the worst singer/hummer ever. I heard Doc whispered angrily "Will ya shut the hell up?! You'll wake Heffron!" and then they talked about why they become medic or something. Somehow it calmed me a little. I don't know if it's because of the chocolate or Doc's soothing accent.

They finally brought back Julian's body this morning.

And I couldn't bring myself to look at his corpse.

"I failed him, Bill. I failed Julian." I said to Bill and George. I realized my voice was raspy. Maybe because I was crying all night or maybe because my cough was getting more severe. I don't give a fuck.

George rummaged his bag, pulled out a cigarette and gave it to me. At this point of time, cigarette was more valuable than dollar. And George was a well-known chain smoker. So...George sharing the cig was a great gesture. "Take it" he said.

"Are you sure?"

"Take it before he changed his mind." Bill nudged me with his elbow.

I shrugged and take it. George lit it with his lighter. A personalized lighter, I think. I can see his name carved on it.

"Nice lighter."

"From Becca." He said fondly.

Great! He got a personalized gift from a girl, while I'm here, single ( _Fuck you and your 'Dear Babe' letter, Doris!_ ) and losing a friend because I'm too coward to save him. What a fucked up.

"I'm a coward. If only I'm not too afraid of the Kraut shooting at me…" I mumbled.

"Hey… You've done anything you can do to save him. Courage isn't about fear, kid, it's about overcoming it. And surely, you've display a lot of courage yesterday." Bill said.

"Babe…at least you're there, fighting your ass off…unlike a certain dumbass officer decided to disappear in the time of crisis." George said "You know, sometimes I think this entire war is a conspiracy…to get pompous-dumbass-dicks as far away from the US of A. You know…for eliminating, or at least reducing, the bad genes back home."

I can't help to snort. George always got these crazy conspiracy ideas.

"Are you making this shit up?" I said amused.

"Fuck yeah. I'm bored, you see. Too much time in the foxhole freezing my fucking ass, waiting to be shelled by the Krauts." He looked very pleased.

"Jesus! Bored George. Are there any two more dangerous words to put together?" Bill said.

"Your Mom." George offered.

I chuckled at that. George always had some ways to make people laugh.

Bill laughed too "Ha! You're right. Ma Guarnere is the most dangerous female there is. My ass still bearing the evidence. Wanna see?"

I laugh at George's "Jesus, Bill! Human mind was not meant to contain some images!"

We're talking mostly bullshits after that. I still think about Julian but the ache subsided a little. I thanked God for giving me George and Bill at this moment. Because, honestly, what can I do without them?

* * *

 **Doc**

First rule of becoming a Medic: Not to allow the men we were responsible for to come too close, not to care for them beyond a professional relationship. They could die every moment, and losing friends was harder than losing a fellow soldier.

Easier said than done.

And there I was, arms buried deep in a soldier stomach, looking for the artery. But nevertheless…he's dead. I don't know his name, but the failure… _my_ _failure_ … to save him still gave me the pain as if I was losing someone I know very well. There's the usual ache in my lungs and then there's the usual heat in my eyes.

 _FUCK!_

 _How many men will die in my arms?!_

Renee looked at me dispiritedly. And I was pretty sure my face was looked just the same.

When we talked outside the aid station after that, she said that she don't want to be near a wounded man again. Me too, actually. I don't know why the Army appointed me to be a medic on the first place. Because I can run fast, maybe? Or because somehow they know that my Grandma was a Traiteuse?

I was watching Renee walked back to the aid station when I hear someone approaching.

"Gene? Are you okay?"

Becca. Maybe she wants me to deliver her letter to George again? I'm not following the gossip to know their current relationship situation. Perhaps they're a couple now. I just know that she's a fine and smart woman who somehow interested in one George Luz. And remembering George's antics, it's something.

It would be nice if you have someone as your anchor in this fuck up war.

Yeah…maybe I'm a little bit jealous.

"'m fine, Becca."

She looked like she's not buying it. "I saw you and Renee back then…I'm really sorry, Gene."

 _Oh._ "That's my job. 's okay." I shrugged, tried as nonchalantly as possible. Which fail quite miserably.

Becca stared at me for a moment, which was honestly a little bit unsettling, and then said slowly "For how long you want to distance yourself from these men? Pretending that they're not your friend? Pretending that you can survive this fucked up war alone?"

How you can answer those questions?

She held my hand and then said softly "What's Currahee stands for?"

"Stand alone…together"

She smiles and pat my cheek "It's about time to carry it out, don't you think?"

No wonder Easy men were a little bit falling in love with this woman. George's a very lucky man.

"I'll do my best."

"Good. Because Eugene Roe that I know has a badassery level that can easily whipped Officers' butt."

I can feel the heat on my cheek "Are you referring when I spat on Captain Winters and Lieutenant Welsh? Can't believe I did that."

"That's because you really care for them. You won't let anything happen to them. But you have to let them care for you too, don't you think? Let them protect you too."

I just nod at that. The question was whether they will accept me when I failed to save their friend.

Becca seemed can feel my gloom. She sighed "You're one of them too. You guys are together since Toccoa. Don't you ever think you're an outsider. You've been push them away, but they'll just push back and want to stay. I'm assured of this. Easy men are bunch of stubborn and persistent idiots."

I smiled at her. "Like George?" I asked

She smiled fondly "Especially George. By the way…I manage to scrounge a little supply from the officer supply. I think you boys need these more than those officers." She then gave a box that full of bandages, cigarettes, canned food, gloves and scarfs.

"Officer's supply? That would be stealing, Becca." I can't believe this.

"Semantics" she said dryly, which I can't helped to think that the way she said that was looked exactly like George. "You think I will let my boys frozen their ass off on the front line while this pompous officers eat cans of peaches and warming their ass over a fireplace? 'sides…the Colonel was conveniently 'looked the other way' when I…um…did the cleanup and scrounge these."

I managed to chuckle. George and Becca definitely a match made in heaven.

* * *

 **Colonel Sink**

It's Christmas Eve and we're still in this frozen hell named Bastogne. At least the fog has been thinned yesterday, so the planes can drop supplies, especially ammunition and winter clothing. About damn time!

"Colonel, Division CP asked for you confirmation for tonight's Christmas Eve dinner." Becca asked. Her face was neutral but I know she will spat on the Turkey and hooch (or maybe to some stupid officers' face) if she had the chance. I taught her well.

"I'd better eat Joe Domingo's rancid ass beans with the boys."

"Agree, Sir." She smiled. "And there's a possibility there will be a group of reporter to film the soldiers to…um…raise morale back home. Maybe they will join us after New Year."

I couldn't hold myself to barked "Raise morale back home?! RAISE MORALE BACK HOME?! My boys freezing their sorry asses without adequate supply and ammo, risking their life and this fucker wanted US…US?!...to raise those civilian morals who sit around fireplace drinking fucking eggnog?!"

"Apparently that's the word, Sir." Becca said glumly.

This goddamn war was getting more and more absurd. I huffed. "Becca, I'm gonna go to Easy CP, delivering Christmas message from Gen. McAuliffe. You want to come with me?"

"Sure, Sir." She looked beaming.

"I'll give you 15 minutes to _clean up_ the officer supply room. Use that box over there. I'll be waiting on the jeep. Now get!"

Exactly 15 minutes later, she came out from the HQ with a box full of supply that mostly contain of cigarette and canned food.

"All set? Got the cigs? Good. Get in the jeep!"

We ride in silence for a while when she asked, "Permission to ask, Sir?"

"Granted."

"Were you refused another promotion, Sir? I heard rumors."

"You bet I did! I have to leave Bastogne if I accept it. And I won't leave my boys freezing their ass here. Period!"

"No wonder they call us five-oh-Sink."

I laughed at that "I've been with them since Toccoa. I'll be with them until the end of this goddam war."

She chuckled "That's what I thought."

"I know every one of them. Well…most of them. So I'll have to ask…George Luz?" I cannot see her face, since she's sit on the back, but I know she must be blushing. I added "I've heard his reputation, you know. That kid is one hell crazy Portuguese, even if half of those stories are right. Smart, I admit, but crazy as hell. I found it's difficult to describe him."

I heard her snort, a very much un-ladylike-snort that I'm sure her mother won't approve, "There's no sufficient adjective that can describe him." And then she added "Sir."

"You and your Harvard language. And it's your Uncle Bob asking. Not the Colonel. Drop the 'Sir'. So why him? Damn sure it's not love at the first sight."

She chuckled "More like annoyed at the first sight."

"And his opinion about you in the WAC and tagging me along?"

"He's worried at first, but he respects my decision. And very supportive."

"He's nice to you?"

"Very."

"You come to me if he's messing around."

"He won't." She sounded so sure.

"Good. Because he'll be a dead meat if he does. What would your parents think about him?"

She laughed "Oh…Mother will faint gracefully, hands over her forehead and all that, and Father will be cursing rainbows."

I can't help to laugh along with her "As much as I love you parents, I would love to see that."

* * *

 **Bill**

I definitely like McAuliffe more than Taylor. I mean, seriously…who wouldn't like a man who tell the German Commander "Nuts!" when told to surrender to prevent annihilation?

 _Ha! Surrender. Like fuck._ Didn't the Krauts learn anything after Normandy? We're paratroopers. We're supposed to be surrounded. _Idiots!_

Buck's snore startled me a little bit. Thank fuck we're not in the OP tonight. Freezing your skidonies off in Christmas Eve while listen to the Krauts singing Silent Night was depressing enough.

I pulled out Frannie's picture from my pocket; the one with her in a grass skirt. I didn't dare to pull it out earlier because Buck said that his girlfriend dumped him, right before Christmas. Jesus! First Babe's Doris and now Buck's girlfriend. Didn't these broads know that their support was everything for these guys? Thank goodness I have Frannie. I promised to God to be faithful to Frannie after those 'pissing needles' episode. I should listen to George not to go to Lulu's. Not that I would tell him this. I would never hear the end of it.

"Hey Bill. You awake?"

Speak of the devil.

"Yea…'m awake." I scooted a little so George could jump into my foxhole without waking up Buck.

"Merry Christmas, Bill." He grinned. "Since you've been a good boy this year…you know, killing Krauts and shit…Jolly Old Saint Luz brings you presents. You have to share with this Aryan perfection over here when he's wake up though."

And then he gave me two sticks of cigarettes ( _LUCKY FUCKING STRIKES!_ ) and a blanket. _Holy fuck! How did he get those?!_

Apparently he can read my mind because he said "Becca."

I blessed the day when Becca and George were born to this world and Easy was destined to meet them.

He added "Sorry I can only give you two sticks. I have to share it with others too."

"Are you shitting me? This is more than generous, George. Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too."

We sat and smoke our cig carefully so the smoke won't tell our location to the Krauts.

"What are you doing after this, Bill?" George asked.

"What? After the war? Marry Frannie, 'course."

"Right." He drawled. "You're lucky if she's still accepting your dick after it made introduction to anything with skirt in Europe."

 _This fucker._ "That's the past, dickhead! I won't do that again."

He raised his one of his eyebrow "Good. It's about fucking time your penis shouldn't make decision for you."

I smacked him up in the head "And how about you and Becca?"

He sighed "Honestly? I planned to propose to her after this shit over. But she's _way_ out my league, Bill."

"You just realize that?" He flipped me off. I shrugged and added "But you're a fool if you let her go."

"I know that. What the fuck should I do?"

"You're seriously asking me?"

"Yeah, Bill. I'm _seriously_ asking you."

"Oh, I'm _seriously_ touched. In my opinion, though, you're fucked."

"You son of a bitch." He scoffed and shook his head "You're not helping…at all. God, you're such an asshole."

"Yeah, but you love me."

"Just because you outranked me, Sarge."

"Back to the business…You're pretty good at killing Krauts but you're scared to shit with her so-called 'society'?"

"I'm not scared! Just…self-conscious. "

"Like fuck! Pull your head from your ass and kick some rich ass instead."

George opened his mouth to retaliate but he's cut short by the shelling.

 _Fucking great! Christmas present from the Panzers. And look! Their 88s were joining the party too._ _How Charming!_ _Cue for screaming meemies!_ It's not fair that Krauts' Panzer has equipped with night vision devices while our Army still developing those shits. But since when the war is fair.

There's nothing you could do when the Krauts decided to showering you with their artillery. You could only make yourself as small as possible in your foxhole and pray not to turn into Tomato Man (not a pretty image, I admit); which we did.

Captain Winters appeared from the woods with blood on his hand. I didn't want to think whose blood it was. He ordered George to contact Regimental HQ in Bastogne to ask for artillery backup, since no way in hell our rifles and machine guns can deal with those armors and arties.

George grabbed his radio and started to call. "Kidnap, Kidnap. This is Easy Six. Urgent. German armor has attack Easy OP. Request for Artillery back up. Over."

George had to repeat the request two more times before finally they answered back "Easy Six, Easy Six. This is Kidnap. Request denied. Repeat. Request denied. Bastogne under attack."

George's face went pale. I heard he whispered "Becca" before we dropped our head and clutch our helmet with our hand since a shell exploded on a tree above us.

* * *

Please Review. Thank you ^_^


	14. Chapter 14 - Easy Company

Hi All,

Always thank you to BobtheFrog for the review *hugs*. And also thank you for the new followers and readers who favorited this story. You guys are the reason I keep writing.

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

This chapter still take Easy men POV. I hope you like it ^_^ and please leave your review. I really want to know what you think.

* * *

 **Lipton**

As Easy's First Sergeant, it's my job to maintain the integrity of the company, especially with Dike as our CO. I didn't mind that, even though George started to call me Momma Lipton. When George first called me that in front of Captain Winters and Captain Nixon, Nixon asked "So I'm now the cool uncle like Dick, right?" and George said "You're really desperate, Sir" which made Captain Winters laughed out loud. I would like to know the background story of that.

"Hey, Lip"

"Yeah boy."

"Jesus! I still hate your verbal tick."

I chuckled, "And I thought we've known each other for two years. What happened, Bill?"

"It's George, Lip. Well, actually it's Becca. We haven't heard about her since the assault in Bastogne last night. We know the Colonel's fine, but Becca was in the aid station. Ya know…the church… And it's been bombed. Babe told me. He knows from Gene. Gene's friend, a nurse, died in that building."

 _Dear Lord!_ "And how's George right now?"

"He's still doing his job. Good as usual, professional as hell. But he's a little bit…off? Like a robot, ya know. He's not joking around and not as asshole as usual."

Well that just bad. Bill tried to say it lightly, but I was sure that he's extremely worried about George.

"I'll do my best, Bill. Thanks for telling me."

I found George in his foxhole, fixing his radio. I crouched on the edge of his foxhole. "How are you doin', George?" He looked up and I could say that Bill was not exaggerating. George's face was pale and there's no mischievous glint in his eyes like usual. "Peachy." he said. His grin was so forceful it looked scary.

"Your radio broken?"

"Nah…just removing the ice on the microphone. The ice can make the radio won't start. We'll be damned if that happened….There…done." He exhaled heavily before add "Bill told you about Becca, didn't he? That's why you're looking for me, right? Don't worry Lip. Death is expected in the war anyway. I just need some time."

"She's still MIA, George. No confirmation yet about her death."

His laugh was the most sarcastic laugh I've ever heard "Don't insult my intelligence, Lip. Becca's in the aid station when the fucking Luftwaffe bombed the city. And said aid station is now a ruble. Gene's friend was dead on that very building." He steeled himself and then add "It's hurt enough to hear that she's in that building, Lip. I don't want to keep my expectation too high. It's saver to be a pessimistic at this point of time. I still pray for her, though. Wherever she is right now, dead or alive, I hope she found peace."

"George…"

"Lip…Thanks for this mother-hen treatment…but I'm an adult, for fuck's sake. And a badass paratrooper, mind you. I not going to cry like some teenage girl or some shit like that. I just need time to be alone. That's all. I won't let you down, Lip. I won't let Easy down. Trust me, okay? Now, unless we're gonna cuddle, why don't you go the fuck to your foxhole and have some shut-eye. You've been patrolling two nights in a row, Lip. You gonna get pneumonia."

Leave it to George to worrying for other people while he himself was in distress. I patted his back "Alright. If that's what you want. Just take care of yourself, okay? We need you. You can talk to me anytime, George."

"Thanks Mom. Oh…while we're on it, can you pass me the broom? I need to sweep the pieces of my shattered heart off the floor." he smiled; try too hard and too soon for making a joke again. The smile was still sad but at least it's not a forced one.

"Smartass."

"Night, Lip. Sleep tight, don't let the Krauts bite."

I nudge his head before leaving him alone again in his foxhole; now clicking his zippo lighter and stared at the fire.

George's mood lifted a bit, however, when Peacock was being sent back to the state, courtesy of the generous Captain Nixon. He even 'congratulates' the oblivious Peacock. The stupid Lieutenant was blushing and grinned, "Thanks, guys. I mean, it really means a lot, you know?" in which George looked like he has to restrain himself not to slap the Lieutenant right in the head. Well, I can see all the men present on the 'farewell party' have the same impulse.

After Peacock gone, George and I walk toward the rancid smell of Joe Domingo's beans since it's chow time. We met Captain Nixon half way; he's walking toward the CP since Colonel Sink was said will come along with the camera crew (what for, I have no idea).

"Sir, now you really are the cool uncle. Thanks a lot. Do I have to get in the line to kiss you?" George said.

Nixon laughed "No kiss necessary, George. And welcome back to the living." Even the Officers feel bad for George.

George smiled a little and shrugged "One step at a time, Sir."

* * *

 **Toye**

Hitler's a fucking dead meat! I couldn't wait to slit his throat with my knife. His army has made me wounded and forced me to leave my buddy several time. This time, I was hit by a piece of shrapnel in my wrist. A gift from Luftwaffe for New Year's Day. I had a row with Doc Roe because I didn't want to go to aid station but he switched on his badass persona that, to be honest, was quite scary. I managed to checked in with Malark before leaving, so he could take over my squad and assisting Bill, and the Mick had the gall to said "You lucky son of a bitch". _Lucky my ass!_

I hate aid station. It can mess your mind. The moaning of wounded soldiers was endless. I'd better guard the OP than staying here. As soon as they finish patched me up, I would get the hell outta here.

To keep my mind sane, I decided to hum 'I'll be seeing you'. It's my favorite song. If I were in the front line, Babe would tell me to cut it out but I would sing anyway. That ginger baby was not the boss of me.

Shit! I missed my buddies already.

"Oh, Jesus! Please stop humming, Soldier! You made us suffer even more." said a somewhat familiar female voice.

I stood up from my bed abruptly "Holy fuck! Becca?! It's that you?"

The female voice gasped "Toye? Joe Toye?"

And then I saw her. She struggled to wake up from her bed. Her left hand on a sling and her head was wrapped with bandage. I immediately rushed into her bed.

"Becca! We thought you're dead."

"I thought I was dead too, Joe. They found me under the ruble. Renee…Gene's friend…she managed to push me to safety…but she didn't make it." Her voice broke.

"Jesus…Why you're not telling us you're alright? George's devastated when he heard Bastogne was attacked and the church was bombed."

"Really? Oh my God. He's gonna be pissed with me. I promised him to stay safe. I should have stay in the Colonel's office. I want to write, Joe, but the nurses won't help me. They said I had to fully recover first."

"Are you kidding me? He's gonna be so happy he'll shitting rainbows if he know you're still alive."

"You really think so?"

"Of course! You're his Princess, for fuck's sake! Listen…", I lowered my voice, "I wanna leave this shithole as soon as possible and hitchhiked back to the front. You wanna come with me? You can get up, right?"

She nodded but before she can say anything, the head nurse (who I think is a reincarnation of a hag) started bitching and pushed me back to my bed. She also berated Becca for "acting like a loosed woman by working with bunch of idiot men that jumped from an airplane instead of becoming a nurse". I saw Becca's face was reddened with anger but she kept her mouth shut. I wish I had my brass knuckles with me to beat that hag senseless.

But the opportunity to go AWOL only occurred two days later, on January 3rd. The hag was conveniently being puked by one of the wounded soldier when we managed to slip out of the aid station. We're walking around to find vehicle that willing to bring us to the front when we heard the Colonel shout.

"What the hell you think you're doing, Private Jones?! You're still in recovery. And you too, Sergeant Toye."

We reflexively snapped into attention.

"We wanna head back to the line with the fellas, Sir." I said.

"Pah…You Easy men will give me ulcer with your AWOL tradition. But you, Becca, what the hell would you do in the front? If you want to go AWOL, you should go back to my office."

"I...I…" she stuttered.

"You wanna see Luz, don't you?" I could swear to God that the Colonel's eyes were twinkling with amusement. Becca's face herself looked like a very ripe tomato.

The Colonel seemed took pity on her, because he said "Get on the jeep, both of you. I want to go to Easy CP, anyway. Escorting the camera crew." He literally spat the last sentence as if he disgusted with it.

In the jeep, Becca whispered to me "You go first meet the boys, Joe. I'll follow later. But don't tell anyone that I come with you."

"Why?"

"Um…I wanna make a surprise?" She looked unsure. I'm sure her real reason was to buy some time to muster up her courage to meet George. Which was absolutely unnecessary, in my opinion. George will be happy beyond believe.

"Becca…George will be happy to see you alive. Trust me."

"Just…promise me you won't say anything, okay? Or I'll crush your nuts."

"Jesus, Becca! Aggressive much?"

Not that I scared or anything, but my hand covered my precious nuts for the rest of the ride. Constant vigilance.

* * *

 **Skip**

I'm sure Dike has brain. Somewhere in that big and stupid head of his. I just hope he would find it before we attack Foy. Thank God there're four people, in my opinion, that made us survive in this freezing hellhole: Lipton, Father Maloney, Doc Roe and George. They were the real hero. With incompetent asshole as our CO and death everywhere, they're our, well at least for me, last beacon of hope. Lipton as our surrogate leader, Father Maloney as our badass chaplain, Doc as our guardian angel, and George as our resident jester.

George's change after the attack of Bastogne was affecting us. The days felt grayer without his usual stellar jokes and impersonation. He still goofing around, but it was bland compared his usual crazy performance. I felt sorry for him. It's like he's trying to mask his own sadness to keep our morale up.

When I told him and Penk that I swum across the Niagara once, for example, George's responds was short. Well…at least he's smiling (appreciating my idiocy, I think), but no further comment he usually would give. Then he teased me on Faye (a very lame of "ah, sweet Faye Tanner") and I can't help to notice longing on his voice. Can't blame him; I might be more wreck if something happened with Faye.

This morning Colonel Sink came with the camera crew and we're ordered to put smiley faces for people back home. Even though I couldn't understand why the hell people state-side need morale support (we're the one who being peppered by Krauts, for fuck's sake), I put my best smile and goofing around with Penk in front of the camera. I imagined Faye would see this footage and she will be glad if she can see that I'm doing fine, albeit freezing my ass off.

Colonel Sink also brought another surprise. Joe Toye went AWOL from the hospital (an Easy Company tradition, along with getting shot in the ass) and hitchhiked back to the front line. _That badass motherfucker._

One peanut replacement asked for trouble when he asked about Toye's 'injury'. I saved him from Johnny's bitchy rant about the difference of 'wounded' and 'injured' and give the kid introduction to the rest of the men on the emphasis on their wounds, except George, who has never been hit. _Lucky bastard_.

"I hope he can share his lucky streak to me, Skip. I surely need one." said a familiar female voice.

The crowd went silent. _Holy Mary, Jesus and Joseph!_ It's Becca. It's really her. Her left hand was hanged on a sling and most likely she got a gash on her forehead because she's wearing bandage on her head. She also slightly limped when she walked.

There's a clang sound that I think's it's someone's canteen fell on the ground and a second later there's a shadow past me. Suddenly, Becca's in on George's embrace.

"I thought you're dead" I can hear George repeatedly whispered the sentence. Over and over.

"I thought I was too. Renee saved me." Becca said; her voice's a little shaky. I gave her credit for not crying like other women usually did in this particular sappy moment. She's one hell of a strong lady.

I'm so happy for them. I admit my eyes a little bit wet at that time. I immediately thought about Faye, as if I couldn't miss her any more than I already did. Maybe when this war is over, Faye and I could have this kind of reunion.

Frank, who finally snapped from his surprise, yelled and started us "Mommy's back!"

George released his hug from Becca but still kept one of his hands on the small of her back. He said "Apparently Joe Domingo's rancid ass beans were not enough to gag a maggot. She's not your Ma, midget! Go brush your teeth!"

And with that, the old George Luz was back.

I hugged Becca carefully; don't want to crush her injured arm "Jesus! You got us scared, Becca."

Liebgott hugged her too, "Nah…She's tough. Like a roach. You can't kill a roach."

Becca laughed and said "I can see your asshole skill aren't lacking, Joe. How's your bladder?" George's face lit up when he heard her laugh.

Bill patted her back affectionately "You went AWOL with Toye, didn't you? That motherfucker didn't say anything."

Joe Toye shouted from the chow line "She said it's a surprise. She threatened to fucking crush my nuts, Bill. And I love my nuts in perfect condition."

Doc came closer. Becca removed herself from us and hugged him. "I'm sorry about Renee. She saved my life."

Doc blinked his eyes and his voice was hoarse when he said "'s okay, Chérie. I just glad you're safe. Don't make us scared again, okay?"

Maybe this Renee girl was Doc's love interest? Who would have known? I felt sorry for Doc.

Unfortunately, Lipton cut the joyful atmosphere with an announcement. "Sorry, boys…and Becca...we have to move again. We headed back to our old position. Get ready." He then asked George to escort Becca back to the Colonel's jeep. It's very kind of him to give them a short time together.

When we arrived at our old position, the woods overlooking Foy, we noticed that the trees were mostly shredded into toothpicks. The 1st battalion left some 'gift' that was majestic feces in most of the foxhole. We can conclude that the Krauts rained this area with their 88s but there were big shell holes that indicate heavier arties, probably 170mm. But there's no other way. We have to hold the line.

Another thing, General Taylor was back from his 'vacation' ("lemme shove me boots and me rotten feet on that scallywag's ass!" Bill said) and told us, via Captain Winters, to "Watch those woods in front of you". What the fuck did he think we had been doing while he's warming his ass in Washington? ("Is shoving my used-ass-wipe to our Commanding General's mouth can make me court-martialed?" George asked)

There's nothing we could do other than reinforced our foxhole. Penk and I were covering our foxhole with branches when George come, dragging heavy branches with him

"Hey, Skip…Penk…need help?"

"Yeah sure…Thanks George." I said. We arrange the branches so it's covering half of the foxhole.

"You want to use some stiffs? I can drag some for you." George offers.

Many of us use stiff Kraut corpse to fortify the foxholes. It offers more protection than branches, but I don't have the heart to 'disgrace' a corpse, even it's a Kraut.

"No thanks, George. You finished your foxhole?" Penk asked.

"I'll just crash in someone's foxhole."

"You can join me and Penk here."

"And Malark? I thought you three were joined in the hips."

"He got patrol order." I said.

"Yikes…"

"How's Becca?"

George's face lit up in an instant "She's great."

"I can see that. She's one hell of a Lady."

"Yeah…she's beauty, she's grace, she'll punch you in the face." George said fondly. It's a major difference from the George we saw several days before. He got his colors back. And a happy George Luz means a Happy Easy Company. We got all the benefit.

They always said if you can hear the shells, you'll be OK.

We didn't.

And this afternoon, we experienced the worst shelling Easy has endured in war so far.

The worst thing of being shelled is the feeling of hopelessness. You can't do anything about it. Just make yourself as small as possible in your foxhole. If you made it to your foxhole. If the mortar does not directly fall to your foxhole. If the mortar does not blow up the trees above your foxhole and showered you with splinters and shrapnel so big, it can kill in instant. If you don't see you friend blown up in front of you.

George flung his body to our foxhole. And we waited until the Krauts run out their ammunition or satisfied enough to terrorize us. Every one became religious at this point of time. I know everyone starting to make promises to the Man Upstairs. Leo Matz, for example, promised to become a priest if he survived the war. He told me after that last mass with Father Maloney.

As suddenly as it began, the shelling stopped. We can hear Lipton shouted to us to stay in our foxhole. But we also hear some of the men asked for help. The nearest from our foxhole sounded like Babe's.

George whispered "Christ! Thank goodness Becca already left." He then started to get up from the foxhole.

Penk hold him "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Helping" And he bolted out of the foxhole.

The second barrage started not long after. The Krauts has achieved their objective. The pause had brought men out of the foxholes to help the wounded.

And when it finally stopped, Buck's scream of "Medic" was the worst thing I've heard in my entire life.

I rushed to the voice and found Buck stared at Joe Toye's and Bill Guarnere's mangled bodies in front of him. Both are still alive, but most likely they'll lose their legs.

Bill holds his shattered legs and says "Hey, Lip. They got Ol' Guarnere this time." _What a badass motherfucker!_

All soldiers that had reached their breaking point always did the same gesture. They slam their helmet down, messes up their hair, dazed that thousand-yard stare and walk away. You could talk all you want, but they couldn't hear you.

Buck did the same. After months of combat and seeing Joe and Bill severely wounded, he had enough. He walked away. George tried to chase, repeatedly saying "Don't leave us, Buck", "Sir, we need you", but Buck only shake his head, walked to aid station, leaving George helpless. And the sight of one George Luz being helpless was depressing.

Nobody blame Buck, though. He's the only experienced officer we had. With Dike MIA to battalion HQ every now and then, Buck was Easy's last hope and he's aware of that weight of responsibility. He had stood up to everything the Germans had thrown at him. But the sight of his platoon being wiped out and his two friends mangled, unnerved him. Who didn't?

In just minutes, we had lost two of our most valuable NCOs and the last experienced officer. All three are from 2nd Platoon.

And where is shithead Dike when this shitstorm happened?

As soon as the shelling started, he instructed Lipton to "take charge of the Company" while the said asshole returned to headquarter "looking for help"; as told by George to Me, Penk and Malark, complete with the stellar impersonation of the particular dumbass.

"Complete asshole." I laughed.

"That's really good, George." Malark agreed.

Apparently Lipton saw that impersonation, because he called for Luz ( _I hope that crazy Portuguese didn't got any trouble_ ) and we went back to our foxholes.

Since Malark was the remaining senior NCO in 2nd Platoon, he headed to his own foxhole, nearer to the OP. He's practically the leader of 2nd Platoon now.

"Good night, all." Malark waved to us.

"Yeah, see you, Luz. See you, Malark." I said before walked to my foxhole with Penk.

We just landed our butt when the shelling started.

In the chaos, we saw George fall flat in his belly, didn't make it to reach nearest foxhole.

Penk and I started to shout at him.

"Luz! Move! Come on! Hurry! Luz!" I shouted and waved my hand like a mad man at him.

He started to crawl to our foxhole. Oh thank goodness, he heard us. Dear Lord, please spare his life until he made it to our hole.

Penk shouted beside me "Move! Come on! Luz! Come on! Move!"

I tried to shout again "Luz!"

And then come the bright light.


	15. Chapter 15 - Easy Company

Hi All,

Thank you to BobtheFrog and lightweight101 for the review *hugs*. And also thank you for the new followers and readers who favorited this story. You guys are the reason I keep writing.

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

This chapter still take Easy men POV. I hope you like it ^_^ and please leave your review. I really want to know what you think.

* * *

 **Nixon**

D-Day + 217. In the span of only 7 months of the war, I've spent 122 days in the front line with Easy. Dick won't leave Easy, and since said Ginger Eskimo need someone to lose him up and I need his footlocker to hide my precious babies, ergo…this Yale student willingly freezing his ass off along with the men.

Ha! And Dear Old Stanhope once told me that I "will not survive" the war?! Eat that, dearest Father!

Okay…so…122 days. That's 23 days in Normandy, 78 days in Holland and 21 days in Bastogne. But the last 21 days in Bastogne was a test for everyone's endurance. Mentally and Physically. For some people, it's the last straw. 21 days of constant tension, sleep deprivation, limited ammunition, hunger and harsh winter. It had cost Easy its best men.

The thing is…Dick was very attached with Easy. Well…yeah…me too actually ( _we survived Sobel together, for Christ's sake_ ), but now he's leading a whole battalion, so he got the other three companies to take care. I had to repeatedly remind him that.

To say that Dike was just plain stupid was a major understatement. It's like equate this war to Roosevelt and Hitler clawing and bitch-slapping at each other like some teenage girls fighting for boyfriends. Dick already reprimanded Dike when that obtuse cow didn't report Hoobler's death. But Dike always found new ways to test Dick's patience. When we found that dickass left Easy because he's " _gonna go for help"_ , for example, Dick went ballistic. I never saw Dick that furious. I mean...Dick was the epitome of all things good ( _sober all the time, favorite among senior citizen, shitting roses, sun rises from his ass… shits like that_ ). He is the first person I know who nicknamed Dick without actually being a dick. So when Dick Winters got mad, you know you had done something really bad.

But even with all aforementioned Neanderthal's solid proofs of incompetency, Dick couldn't do anything with Dike. Dick's hands were tied and in not a pleasurable way. I generously offered my help to eliminate ( _or at least apply a bitch slap or two or infinite_ ) that dumbass, complete with the elaborate 'cleaning plan' afterward ( _I'm the intelligence officer after all. I can be stealthy and shit._ ). But Dick only shook his head and I couldn't help to realize that, for a 27 year old man, he looked so much older in a very short time. Perhaps that's what happened when you suffered from a serious case of emotional constipation…or maybe it's because he's doing the job of a major while he's still a captain.

And with Buck leaving, all Easy platoon leaders are replacement officers. Foley as 1st Platoon leader was okay, so much better in tactical and leadership skill than Peacock ( _Jesus, that sorry excuse of a man shouldn't pass the OCS in the first place_ ), but Foley's not experienced in leading into combat. And 2nd Platoon was having serious leadership crises. With Buck, Guarnere and Toye leaving, Malarkey took the job as Platoon leader. And judging by his appearance lately, it's taking its toll.

"Lew…I think I will pull Malarkey back from the line for a day. Maybe he can work for you?"

Malarkey never got hurt since D-Day so he always in the front. I understood Dick's way of thinking. We have to take Malarkey back from the front line for a while before we're attacking Foy. Because getting even 50 yards back from the line for an hour or two could make a big difference in a soldier's state of mind. Although, I admit, not every man liked this arrangement. Like Liebgott, for example. Dick brought him back to Battalion CP to be his runner and my translator for Krauts POW. But after a while, he begged me to be back with his buddies. Loyalty wins over a chance to rest up.

"Sure thing. I…"

I couldn't finish my sentence because the shelling was started. Again.

 _Oh for fuck's sake!_ I had enough of this shitstorm!

I shouted in the top of my lung "Come-the- fuck-on! Fucking surrender already, you asshole!"

Dick rolled his eyes. How the hell he can be this calm during a bombardment.

 _Dammit… I need my Vat69!_

When the barrage finally stopped, shouts of "Medic!" rang through the forest. Somehow, the sound of it was much more frightening than the actual barrage. The Battalion radio crackled and Perconte's voice come over "Lightning, Lightning. This is Easy Red. We have KIA. Muck and Penkala. Direct hit. Over."

Dick's face paled before he muttered "Damn…Malarkey…". And when Dick Winters cursed, you know that shits had hit the fan.

Frank

After that last barrage, I found George was digging frantically on a location that I know it was Skip and Penk's foxhole. Their foxhole has taken a direct hit. Babe besides him looking up, hoping that Skip or Penkala blown up into the trees and miraculously survived. But there's nothing. Not in the foxhole, or in the trees. They only found some pieces of bodies and a part of a sleeping bag. And a piece of Skip's rosary. George held on it tightly, I was sure it will leave a dent on his hand. Babe and I have to drag George from the foxhole.

"They want me to jump into their foxhole. They're still in there, Frank. Please…help me dig." George rasps.

It broke my heart to see George like this. The same George that called me midget in hourly basis now shaking and his face paled.

"No, George. They're gone. They took direct hit. You saw it. Let it go, George." I said. George's shoulder sagged in defeat.

He mumbled, "Right". He took several deep breaths and rubbed his face. "Right" He mumbled again.

"George…here, buddy…here…have a smoke." Babe offered him his cig. Babe himself was still recovering from losing Bill and Toye, both were his mentors. Last week? Several days ago? It's hard to keep track of time in this shithole.

"Malarkey…where's Malarkey. I have to tell him. Skip's rosary. Gotta give it to him." Even in his distress, George Luz still taking care of other people.

"George, Lipton will take care of it. Just smoke, okay? You got Babe and me." I said.

George finally sits down and receives Babe's cigarettes. His hand still shaking. "Malarkey…I hope he's gonna be okay. He nearly shot himself, you know? After Hobbler died. He told me. We can't lose him. Not after Buck."

Shit! I didn't know about this. Loosing Hoobler and now his best friends, Skip and Penk, Malarkey must be very traumatized.

"George?" _Oh God! It's Mal._ "What happened?" He's walking towards us, still not realized that his best friends were dead.

George seemed snapped from his distress and he braced himself to rose up to meet Mal. When he talked, his voice was somewhat steady, "Mal…It's Skip and Penkala. They're gone…I'm sorry. I think you wanna have this." And he gave Skip's rosary to him.

Malark received the rosary in dazed…as if he's dreaming. His face lost its remaining color. He nod and said faintly "I'll write to Faye". He left silently towards his foxhole.

Lipton eyed him wearily. He then ordered me to report casualties to Battalion CP.

I switched on my radio and started to send report "Lightning, Lightning. This is Easy Red. We have KIA. Muck and Penkala. Direct hit. Over."

Five minutes later, Captain Winters and Nixon approached us. "Gents…" Winters nodded.

George took a deep breath and then said in a hollowed voice "Muck and Penkala's foxhole got a direct hit, Sir. Mine and Lipton's got a dud."

Nixon whispered "Jesus"

George grimace "That's the way it was, Sir. We got nothing to salvage…from both of them…except Muck's rosary. I already gave it to Malarkey."

George was very calm when reporting this while just minutes ago, he saw his friends shredded in front of him and he himself got a little bit hysterics for a while. But maybe this was his mechanism to deal with all this horror. Maybe…this calm-border-line-indifference attitude was George's version of breaking point.

Winters watched him closely. He pated George's back and said "Hang tough."

George smile weakly "Will do, Sir. One step at a time."

* * *

 **Liebgott**

There were times when I wanted to forcibly gag George Luz and throw him from a flying airplane without parachute. But not tonight. Tonight that crazy Portuguese need some distraction.

You see…tomorrow we will attack Foy and I heard that he's been assigned as Dike's radio man. Well, he's our best radio man and becoming an 'Easy Six' was always an honor, but if said 'Six' was Dike…you can say that Joe Liebgott can commiserate ( _Yeah I know fancy word. You got a fucking problem with that?!_ ) to one annoying Portuguese.

George had changed. A lot. The men could see that Becca's close call, Bill & Toye incident and Skip & Penk death were deeply affected him. He's still crazy though, dutifully carried out his role as company clown with those jokes and impersonations, but it's a little bit subdued.

"Hey George. Still alive?"

"Hey Lieb. Still an asshole?"

"That's my middle name. Where's Frank?"

"Midget's brushing his teeth. Somewhere. Let's just hope his teeth were not too shiny or Speirs would want to forcefully remove them from Frank's mouth. Seriously…that creepy Lieutenant got easily distracted with something shiny."

"Hmh...yeah…tell me about it" Speirs's legendary creepiness could only be surpassed by his legendary kleptomania tendency he'd shown since Holland. "But George, unless you're wearing a skirt, don't call me Lieb. It means Love in German and I still like tities. Fortunately you're lacking on that specification."

"You let Becca call you Lieb."

"She's a broad, isn't she? And I love her."

"You WHAT?!" George sputtered.

"As a sister, ya dickhead." Christ! Sometimes George was very oblivious that he had no valid reason to be jealous. Both of them were head over heels for each other.

"Oh…okay…right" he had the decency to look embarrassed.

"So…you stick with Dike tomorrow?"

George groaned spectacularly "Please…don't remind me about that. Do you know what happened at briefing this afternoon? Well…you can say that our CO is obviously not the brightest crayon in the box."

"We're fucking doomed, aren't we? But what if I….let say…accidentally throw my grenade to his general direction, do you think anyone would notice?"

"I will be in those 'general direction' too, asshat."

"Oh yeah…right. By the way…Becca will come tomorrow? I bet Colonel Sink will be there to supervise the attack."

"Well, she recovered greatly. So…yeah…I think she will be there. But, to be honest, I'm not too peachy about it."

"Hmm…yeah…she can see you got shot or blown off."

"Thank you, Joe. That's very nice of you. I really appreciate that. You optimistic, you." he said dryly.

"No worries, buddy…if there's something happened to you, I'll take care of her. Maybe marry her at some point."

"You cocky motherfucker!"

"But only the best Moms." I winked. And George burst out laughing, in which Lipton had to shush us down.

I flipped Lipton off.

Lipton glared.

I lowered my helmet to hide from his glare.

George grinned.

 _The fucker!_

"Thanks, Joe. I really need a laugh right now."

"Yeah…I know…don't we all."

We sat in silence for a while before I asked "Becca is a very special girl, right?"

George smiled when he answered "Yeah she is. She made me want to be just me. Warts and all."

"Yeesh…you got warts?"

"It's just a metaphor, dumbass! And that's not the point I was talking about."

"Yeah yeah…I was just messing with you, George. It's a sport, ya know."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks. I'm into tits."

George actually slammed his palm into his face and left me, saying "I'm off to cry manly tears now"

"Yeah…manly" I scoffed. He affectionately flipped me off without even glanced back. And then I realized, that was my first winning in the Battle of Sass with George Luz. I'd take that as a good omen for tomorrow assault.

* * *

 **Speirs**

Well…I feel bad for Easy for having such a Stupid ( _with capital S_ ) CO in this dire moment. I saw Captain Winters brief Dike for the last time this morning, and said ass ( _Dike. Not Winters_ ) was nodded lazily and even yawned ( _FUCKING YAWNED!_ ) after that. I usually had respect for my fellow officer, but for this sorry excuse of a creature, I didn't have any. This kind of officer that would make his men killed due to his own stupidity. Even though as a soldier we have to accept that we already dead, but that's our own death; not other people's death. And especially, not our men's death.

Then I saw that Becca girl ( _I hope I got the name right. I'm not good in remembering names_ ). I heard she survived the bombing of Bastogne. She's still wearing bandage on her head, but in general, she looked okay. She glared at Dike and slowly clenched and unclenched her fist in desperate attempt to control her emotion. I saw her and that radio man ( _Damn, I forgot his name_ ) looked at each other as if they want to say something but the circumstances was not allowed them to. That's just depressing. To become that close but couldn't say anything.

When the radio man took his place beside the dumb CO, I walked toward her because she looked like she needs to talk to someone.

"Morning…Becca."

She nodded. Still tense "Morning, Lieutenant Speirs." _Oh…Good. I got her name right._

I lowered my voice so no other can hear us "Your radio man will be fine, Becca. He's a fine soldier."

"Oh I know he's a fine soldier, Sir. It's just…" she seemed want to say something derogatory about Dike, but she caught herself.

"Yeah, I know. Dike is a dunce."

"Your word, Sir. Not mine" She grinned.

"But you think about it and maybe in a much worse words."

"Touché."

"Don't worry. Easy is the best, Becca. Why do you think the Colonel chose them to lead this attack?"

She nodded but we have to finish our conversation because the attack has begun.

And what a disaster it was.

The situation went from wrong to royally and catastrophically fubar when Dike ordered the men to hold up. He doomed his men into sitting duck for Krauts' arties while he's cowering with his tail between his legs behind a haystack. Winters lost his cool and getting more and more agitated when Dike was not responded on the radio. I know the transmission was just fine because I can hear the radio man's voice ( _Dammit! What is his name?_ ) demanded Dike to answered Captain Winters, but that stupid son of a bitch ( _Dike. Not the radio man_ ) just keep silent. Becca looked livid. An angry and worried tear rolled of her eyes.

You know that shits had hit the fan when a hybrid of Saint, Angel and anything Holy that was Dick Winters lost his temper and surge forward with his rifle to take charge. The Colonel and Nixon hold him back. But before the Colonel finished his speech ( _Winters must be beyond furious to cut the Colonel like that. I like Winters_ ), Winters shouted "Speirs! Take over that company, relieve Dike and take that attack on in!"

About damn time!

To be honest, the next event was kind of bit blur. I just moved based on instinct and muscle memory. I ran across the open field to reach Dike position behind the haystack ( _Krauts' arties were quite impressive, to be honest_ ). Then I barked out orders: 2nd platoon this way, 3rd platoon that way, get those mortars humping, all-out with those machine-guns, let's go. You know…strategic stuffs, plans and shits like that.

And I took off and not looking back, assuming the men will follow. Thankfully, they're not stupid like their former CO. They did following me. It would be embarrassing if they didn't.

But then we realized that we will lost I company if we didn't connect with them. Radio ( _I'll just call the radio man 'Radio' until I remember his name_ ) tried to contact them but to no avail.

Well…desperate times call for desperate measures. So I just run towards the I Company. It's a short distance anyway. I faintly heard Radio said "what the hell?" How eloquent of him.

After a little chat with I Company leader, I ran back to Easy. During my return run, I finally remember Radio's name. It's George Luz. _Good job, Brain_.

When the shits finally over, Winters immediately relieved Dike officially and promote me as Captain and Easy's new CO. On one side, I was honored to lead the best company in the ETO. On the other hand, I have to remember new names. _Oh goodie._ I'll just use that stupid memory trick like it's my first day teaching Kindergarten ( _not that I ever had teach one_ ). But if I can get through this day without mangling anyone's name that can ruin my legendary badass reputation, I'll take that as a win. The men acted like toddlers anyway, if the kids were highly trained killer machine, behaving inappropriately, currently depraved from sex and with a worrying love for anything explosive and lethal.

So…let's start. Crazy, Radio, Portuguese is George Luz. Italian, toothbrush, got shot in the ass is Frank Perconte. Mama bear, scar on cheek, 1st sergeant is Lipton. I heard stories about him since Bois Jacques. Sniper, southerner, soft-speaking is Shifty. Ginger, Philly, baby is Babe. Cajun, pale, with Babe is Doc Roe. Okay…that's easy enough. I can do this.

"Lieutenant Speirs, Sir."

"It's Captain now."

"Oh…Sorry Captain."

"It's fine. I have not received the badge yet anyway. Private George Luz is it?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm your radio operator. Your call sign will be Easy Six now. Do you want me to explain the other designated radio call sign for Easy? "

"Yes. Thank you, Private. But maybe in an hour? I have…things to do." I gave him my signature glare so he can leave and I can continue remembering the names.

"Okay, Sir. Permission to speak, Sir?" Well, I guess this radio man was immune to The Glare.

I nodded and schooled my face as icy as possible. Maintain a reputation was always an important thing.

"We're lucky Winters appointed you to replace Dike or maybe we will have more casualties. Finally Easy has a good leader."

"You and Lipton also did a good job, Private. From what I've heard."

"It's our job, Sir. With a dickass as a CO, what else can we do? Someone has to un-SNAFU-ed the SNAFU."

I lift one of my eyebrows involuntarily. I guess I had to guard my expression more carefully if I have to work with this man.

"One more thing, Sir." He added. "That run across the German line thing…Seriously… That was the motherfucking best." And he grinned.

I couldn't stop myself to smile. Honestly, that was the most genuine compliment I've ever had. "Glad I can entertain you, Private."

"You damn right, Sir. It's gonna be a legend. So…um…I'll go check on Perconte. His ass got shot. That's kinda Easy's tradition, Sir. Getting shot in the ass and went AWOL from hospital. Just so you know. Welcome to Easy, Sir."

Well, I guess I had to change Perconte's 'got shot in the ass' into something. Maybe midget. Yeah…he's short anyway. So…Italian, toothbrush, midget is Frank Perconte.

I realized I was smiling again, a little bit warmer this time since I feel welcomed. God forbid the men hated me like they hated their former CO. I know I will have a great time leading this crazy bunch of dysfunctional paratroopers. I managed to nod and said "Thank you for the notification…Luz."

He grinned and walked toward the aid station.

I like this man. I think I will make him my runner.

Now what's that shiny thing I saw over there…


	16. Chapter 16 - George

Hi All,

Thank you to BobtheFrog, lightweight101 and MASHlover23 for the review *hugs*. And also thank you for the new followers and readers who favorited this story. You guys are the reason I keep writing.

And thank you to KBear143 who made a multi-chapter fic for me. It's called "But you love me". You guys should read it. It's really good...

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

Don't forget to leave your review ^_^

Oh...And this chapter will back to George's PoV. Enjoy..

* * *

You'd think that after the nightmare that was Bastogne and we've captured Foy, we would be pulled back to regimental reserve and finally had a roof over our head, right? Wrong!

Because apparently, capturing Foy was not the real objective; Noville and the higher ground were. But to capture Noville, we need tank support. And tank needs roads. Ergo, Foy it was. But then, we had to occupy a tiny village of Cobru and then Recogne before we could reach Noville. And to reach Cobru, we have to across a 2 kilometers of open and snow-covered field (again), in a bright sunny day. In Colonel Sink's words to Winters, "2nd Battalion would have the honor of leading the attack on Noville". In which of course could be translated as "Easy is the spearhead. Now get it done!"

That's the logic in the Army, my friend. Ike wants some action, Monty wants some action, General fucking Taylor wants some action, Sink screwed, Winters screwed, Speirs screwed, thus us screwed.

But thank you the almighty deity above, we got Winters AND Speirs now. With their brilliant strategy, by night, we've worked our way to the southeast corner of Cobru. But since we had worked up a sweat getting to Cobru, now our clothes were fucking freezes; it crackled when we move. There're no trees to protect us from the wind. We slept in a shallow foxhole, because the soil was frozen. No shelter at all and it's fucking snowing. Here we're, freezing our asses again, waiting for the earliest light to attack Noville. Joy, right?!

Nope. Abso-fucking-lutely NOPE.

And I missed Becca. Terribly. Even though the last time I saw her was before the attack of Foy ( _that was…what? 2 days ago? And I couldn't talk to her since I had to babysit one stupid cow_ ), but the last time we had time for a little talk was when she surprised us that she's still alive. That felt like ages ago. And a lot had happened since then.

"H-Hey G-George…the-the f-fuck are we doing here?" squeaked my scrawny Hebrew friend.

I was not in the mood for hearing his whining, so the most suitable answer was "Please not right now, honey. It's my time of the month and I'm having a headache."

"Fucking asshole." He grumbled. "It's fucking cold, George. I…"

"Don't you dare to pee in this foxhole!" I snapped.

"That's not what I want to say, dickhead! How the hell it can be this fucking cold anyway? T-this is not normal. I c-can't even feel my fucking balls!"

"Well that's new. I d-don't know you have b-balls. I thought it's r-raisins…s-shriveled up like that."

"F-f-fuck you." But the usual heat behind it was lost due to the shivering. "J-Jesus! I wish W-Winters order some n-night attack or my nuts w-would have to be s-surgically removed f-from my stomach."

"Joe…p-please…my life is miserable enough w-without imagining your n-nutsack in your stomach."

The night was saved from further shock-inducing mental image of Joe fucking Liebgott's nutsack when Lipton came to our foxhole and asked me to accompany him for a recon patrol. He was uneasy about leading on an attack without knowing what was up ahead. And I was happily obliged. Playing intel on the risk of being shot was so much better than sitting idly on a frozen foxhole with Joe Liebgott and his nuts.

* * *

"You fucking idiot! Can't you tell the difference between Shermans and Panzers?!" I shouted to Alley right after the Panzer shot the burnt Sherman where we're dived under to take cover. Goddamit! It felt like we jumped a foot in the air when those shells hit the Sherman.

"It's an honest mistake, George! And I'm with Lieutenant Shames when I approach that tank. So it's not solely my fault."

"Honest mistake my ass! You're both the Three Stooges levels of stupid."

The attack of Noville started at dawn. Since Speirs looked like he's fallen in love with my charm (or maybe because I was the only one that immune from his signature glare), I again designated as his radio man/ runner/ PA (in which one of my job description was listing his shiny 'findings'. "I can't let this valuables being left alone. They have historical value", he said). I followed him and the 2nd platoon spearheaded the attack directly into the center of Noville, while the 1st platoon supporting the 3rd platoon in securing the right hand side of the city where the resistance was stronger.

I heard in my radio that there was a friendly armor approaching 3rd platoon's position. Alley and Lieutenant Shames got the message. And what happened next was worthy of a comedy movie if we're not in a war. Alley approached the first tank he saw, he shouted over the roar of the engine to the tank commander, who was standing in the turret looking the other way, to "Come this way." The tank commander turned, and….drum roll please…..it's a Krauts tank ( _Ba dum tss_ ). The Kraut swore loudly ( _or Alley thought he was. Who the hell know what "Scheiße!" means_ ), dropped into his tank, and began aiming his turret toward Alley and Shames. Both of them run their sorry pasty-white-asses, unfortunately, to Lipton, Speirs and my general direction. Long story short, Shames saw an open window and jumped in head first, Speirs and Lipton hid behind a wall, Alley and I hid under a burned-out Sherman, and the Panzer shot aforementioned Sherman. Hilarious, right?! ( _Right?_ ) Well, not whenI was under the shelled Sherman…but…you get the general idea…

And the most hilarious thing of all was when Alley and I went to look for Shames, we saw him tangled up in beds, springs, and furniture in a basement he had not realized was there when he jumped through the window. He practically dived in, head first, straight to the basement. We burst into laughter. But Lipton smacked our heads, Speirs gave us The Glare (which has no effect on me, but I was pretty sure Alley kind of wet himself. I heard he mumbled "Thank GOD he didn't offer us cigs"), and Shames started to throw us pieces of furniture, so we helped said Lieutenant but not after we guaranteed that we would tell the whole company about this, much to his chagrin.

"I cannot pull my rank on this, can I?" he grunted.

"Nope." Alley and I grinned and shook our heads in unison.

Shames just rubbed his face in shame ( _pun fucking intended!_ ) and mumbled "fucking kids".

But jokes, insults and profanities aside, we still proof ourselves as a cohesive, well trained and discipline unit ( _which sometimes I thought it's a miracle_ ). By noon, we got Noville in our hand (that has been our objective since Dec 20), buuuut….General FUCKING Taylor wanted us to take over Rachamps as well. Which was in a valley. Which we have to go over a snow-covered ground sloped. Which we would be obvious targets for Krauts' heavy arties.

We persuaded Shifty to 'accidentally' shoot the General to no avail.

* * *

We got Rachamps. It was an easy victory.

Since D-Day, we've been kicked Krauts' paratroopers, armored and infantry divisions right in their sorry Aryan ass. We've been surrounded, shelled, and fought the finest units Nazi Germany could produce. We've been fought in hunger, cold and rationed ammunition and medical supplies. Do you know what the newspapers called us? The Battered Bastards of the Bastion of Bastogne. Suck on that, Hitler! We're fucking badass!

And the best of it, Speirs set up company CP in a convent in Rachamps. Finaly, we had roof over our head. It's been one moth since we left Mourmelon. We're entering Belgium with 145 men and officers. We were going out with 63.

I saw Doc sadly gazed the nuns who sang for us. The song was in French so he might be understood it. Frank beside him, laying butt up, since the midget was waiting to be transferred to the hospital. The other men were either in contemplative state or resting. Speirs and Lipton were sorting documents. Might be the casualties report they will sent to the regimental CP. That reminded me of Becca. If only I could talk to her. After those death-defying episodes that were Bastogne, I've decided to honestly confess my feeling for her as soon as I found the opportunity.

"Hey, Frog."

Oh my goodness. How I miss that voice.

"Princess" I whispered.

"Pray with me?" she offered her hand.

I nodded and took her hand. We walked toward the altar.

"You're Catholic?" I asked.

"No. But I'll pray anyway. It's the least I can do."

She lit the votive candles one by one while whispering the names of the dead.

"Hoobler…Julian…Herron…Mellet…Sowosko…Shindell…Hayes…Webb…Penk…" her voice started to break and her hand shake "Skip…Renee…" And she finally cried.

I wrapped my left hand on her shoulder and kiss her temple. We then kneel before the altar. She'd stop crying but tears still falling from her eyes. We prayed for our fallen brothers, for our wounded friends. We thanked for God's mercy for letting us alive, for finally gave us a good leader.

I thanked God for let me met Becca. For let her alive. For gave us another chance.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was alive." She whispered after we sat back in the pew.

"You're alive. That's the most important thing."

"You don't have any idea how terrify it was reading the casualties report, hoping I won't see your name"

I hold her hand "We're here."

"Did you miss me, George?"

"Fucking hell I did" I said incredulously

"George Luz! Do not talk like a dirty sailor in front of Jesus."

"My bad." So I lean forward and say directly to the statue of Jesus in the altar. "Sorry, Jesus."

Becca chuckled "Even after all of this, you're still one crazy ass Portuguese."

"Rebecca Jones! Do not talk about my supple behind in front of Jesus. Apologize to Him and wash your mouth with soap."

She struggled to stifle her laugh and said "Aaaww…Frog…But you love me" She nudged me with her shoulder.

I nudged her back and smiled "That I do"

And the way she tried (and failed) to hide her blush and smile by scratching her nose was simply the loveliest thing I've ever saw.

* * *

"Luz, wake up. We're moving"

I suppress my yawn because it's not wise to yawn in front of Captain McCreepy. I was immune from The Glare but I didn't have a death wish.

"Back to Mourmelon, Sir?"

"No" he said grimly. "Krauts launched an operation in Alsace. Ike sent us to bolster the line."

 _Un-fucking-believable_. "Permission to speak, Sir."

Speirs exhaled like he embraced himself before he nodded.

"In the risk of sounded like a teenage girl, Sir…but…Seriously?I mean…don't they have anybody else in this army to plug these gaps?"

He gave me his 'you did sounded like a teenage girl' glare before he shrugged and said "Just make sure Vest already sent my belongings to England before we leave" And then he left me.

 _Yeah…right…his 'belongings'_

And that's why we ended up in an open truck. Again. And the weather was cold, miserable and snowing. Again. Moved to where-the-fuck-ever. Again. Still in filthy uniform. Again. As the spearhead. Again.

Sometimes it's a curse for being the best unit in the ETO.

It's a 160 miles journey through a slippery and dangerous road, so the truck must proceed slowly. We moved so slow, you could jump off the truck, relieved yourself and hopped back in. That's something since we're wearing layers of clothing (baggy pants, OD pants, long underwear and undershorts), all with buttons. Fancy.

"I bet you're happy, Joe"

"Why?"

"You can pee freely"

"Asshole"

"Brotheeeeer" I hugged him _. And I need warmth...okay?!_

You could conclude that it was so fucking cold since Joe 'Don't-Fuck-With-Me' Liebgott didn't throw me from the moving truck when I hugged him.

* * *

We moved from village to village as a reserve for two weeks before we finally stationed in Haguenau. That's 48 days since Mourmelon, or 48 without shower and changing clothes. Blood, guts, dirt, mud, sweat and other questionable bodily fluids were become our second skin.

Captain Don't Make Me Offered You Cigarettes ordered me to find a house with roof intact enough for company CP because Lipton was sick (Doc said it was pneumonia). Since Lipton and Speirs were now practically the Mom and Dad of Easy, they shared the same room…with only one bed. And they were bickering already like an old married couple.

"You're my CO, Sir. You're sleeping in the bed. I'll use my sleeping bag."

Captain Broody But Softy simply replied "You're sick" and left the room while Lipton gaping at him.

I pat his back and offered him a bottle of schnapps.

"I don't drink" Lipton said.

"Don't be such a dick. I've been…umm...scrounging this for you. " I said.

"Stealing" he corrected.

"Semantics". And I left the bedroom to start sorting the supplies.

In the living room, Captain I Have A Sexy Hair Even Though I'm Filthy asked "He's sleeping?"

I shrugged "I don't know. I left him with a bottle of schnapps though. Hope it'll help him sleep. But he's stubborn, Sir."

He chuckled (in which I had to suppress my gasp) "Tell me about it. By the way…after you finished sorting the supplies, I want you to blow a house across the river. We suspect it's Krauts' OP."

 _You've. Got. To. Be. Shitting. Me._ "Me, Sir?"

"Yeah. You. You've once said you want to try the bazooka."

 _I love you, Daddy Speirs._ "Yeah. Sure, Sir. Thanks."

I walked outside the house looking for Vest to start with the sorting thing when I heard someone called my name.

"George Luz!" The man who called me was so clean he looked shiny. I couldn't see his face because the sun was behind his head.

"Yeah! It's me." I said, squinting my eyes.

"Come on, I haven't been gone that long." The man said cheerfully.

 _HOLY FUCKING SHIT!_ It's Webster. He's so pretty and clean you'd mistaken him to Miss Haguenau 1945.

I was too shocked I can only say "Jesus…Yes, you have."


	17. Chapter 17 - Becca

Hi All,

Sorry for the late update. Life catched up and it had been a mess.

But thank you for the new followers and readers who favorited this story, because you guys are the reason I keep writing.

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

* * *

Once upon a time, there's a man with a hideous mustache ( _Hitler must be dropped in the head when he was a baby if he thought that his mustache was cool_ ) that decided to be an asshole and started a war that drag the whole world into hell. Some people said it's because he's overcompensating his allegedly-small certain anatomy, and some people said that he got some daddy issue. Whatever his reason was, I can't help to think that if it's not because of this war, I wouldn't meet George Luz, Company Clown Extraordinaire. And I was head over heels, wonderfully, stupidly, terribly, irrevocably, unconditionally in love with him ( _with George Luz, not with Hitler the Asshole_ ).

George said that he love me too. It took a lot of control not to jump and dance my silly winning dance (it's largely unladylike because it's a mix of chicken dance and repeated fist pumping to the air) at that time. I managed to realize that we're in the convent, in front of Jesus, and the men were resting. No need to give the men more psychological trauma.

He also looked a lot more mature, like every other men who experienced Bastogne, but somehow still maintain that adorable puppy quality on his face. His hair's longer now and I had to suppress my urge to swipe my hand on it every time I saw him. And his stubble… _Oh. My. God_. I mean…I never a fan of facial hair on man before, but facial hair on George Luz was successfully convert me into a devout worshiper.

"I demoted Radio to Private." Captain Speirs said, slapping two folders of report in front of me, successfully interrupt my daydreaming.

 _Holly shit!_ This man should be equipped with cow bells on his neck. He got a tendency to sneak on people. Nixon was his only contender.

"I beg your pardon, Sir?" I stuttered.

"I demoted…you crazy boyfriend… to Private" he repeated slowly. "Again." he added

 _Dammit, George! It's the third time, for God's sake_! I cringed "What did he do this time?"

"He and Liebgott debated about the merits of childbearing hips versus…um…handful of…um…women's… front side" _Oh Jesus… not that thing again "_ The argument got heated, Liebgott smacked Luz on the head, Luz thrown a cigarette butt at him, that still got fire in it, and said cig fall near crates of ammunitions and, in consequences, the whole platoon rushed to save the crates. Their swift action was solid proof that this situation was frequently happened, apparently. No surprise there."

 _God... It's another organized chaos of typical Easy Company situation._

"No one got hurt" he assured me. "I should have made them court-martialed. But I couldn't spare them, especially Luz. I need a runner. He's the only one who didn't run or pee or combination of both when I gave orders or offered cigarettes. I don't understand though. I was trying to be nice, you know, sharing cigarettes. The men's reaction was like I would shot them or something."

"Umm…Yes, Sir. That's because the…story…said that you offered cigarettes to the POWs before you shot them in D-Day."

"Oh…well…I guess that explained their behavior." He shrugged nonchalantly.

I wait for him to confirm the truth about the story.

He just stared me back. One eyebrow rose as if it's challenging me to ask. Speirs was one of those people who can make a full conversation with just his eyebrows.

I sighed "You won't tell me the true story, don't you Sir?"

"No." he said flatly "I have a reputation to maintain"

"Um…okay…so…this is the report about the demotion?" I picked up the folders.

"Yes…and on the other folder is my recommendation about Lipton's Battlefield Commission. Can you give that to the Colonel? Captain Winters already signed that."

"Sure, Sir. And how's Sergeant Lipton's condition? I heard he got pneumonia."

"The most stubborn mother hen I've ever met." he huffed. "I left him with Luz to take care of him."

"George got nine siblings back home, Sir. I'm sure he take care Sergeant Lipton just well."

"Yeah, I know. That's the thing about George Luz. Sometimes you wanted to give him commendation, but sometimes you wanted to shoot him between his eyes." He deadpanned.

"Err…Yes, Sir...that's…very astute."

"Oh and another thing, the house George set up for Easy CP got a fully functioning bathroom. You can use it anytime you want."

 _Hallelujah!_ "Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that."

Suddenly the door of the office opened, surprised both of us, and one George Luz barged in with a box of…was that chocolate? "BECCA-POO….guess who I met outside…OH SHIT…I mean…Sorry, Sir. I didn't know..."

Speirs face expression changed from confused then exasperated and then disturbed before settled on constipated. He mouthed at me "Becca-poo?"

I throw my face to my palm and exhaled "I've told you, George…enough with the silly names…"

George pouted and he looked like a hurt puppy…a hurt psychotic puppy, to be exact "But every couple had silly nicknames for each other."

"I already called you Frog and you called me Princess." I spat at him. And then I said solemnly to the Captain, "Sorry, Sir. I've tried to teach him manners."

Speirs, resigned that he stuck with crazy bunch of men to lead and desperate to change the topic, asked George "Done sorting things with Vest?"

"Yes, Sir. I bring some with me and asked for the explosive and ammunition to be sent to our CP. I brought extra blanket for Lip too. Because, most likely, he already evacuated his room and set camp in the living room as we speak. Working." And he did his masterpiece eye roll.

"That workaholic mother hen. Okay…so…I gotta go...for house inspection. Don't forget about the report, Becca."

 _Riiight…'house inspection'_. I nodded "Yes, Sir"

George piped in "Oh…I saw a beautiful clock on the house about two doors left from our CP, Sir. I think you might like it."

Speirs's face suddenly lit up and said "Thank you, Luz" before he hurriedly walked out the office. Undoubtedly to 'secure' said clock. But he turned around at the door and said "But you're still demoted, Luz." and then he's gone.

George deflated a little and shrugged "Eh…it's worth to try." He dropped his box beside him and leaned on my desk "Sorry, Princess. I didn't know Speir's here."

"Yeah, Frog…for one elite paratrooper, your manners and situational awareness are shit."

"Language, woman!"

"You want me to kick your ass for calling me that?"

"As long as you can keep both cheeks symmetrical."

I groaned "You're disgusting."

"I know. And you're stuck with me, my darling Princess Becca-poo." He winked exaggeratedly.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed "And what about you got busted to Private again?"

He cringed "Ah…yeah…about that…"

"This is the third time, George! You're lucky we haven't received replacements, Speirs need you as his runner and you're immune enough to his creepiness." I nudged his chest to emphasize each point.

He scratched the back of his head "It won't happen again. Promise. But you're wrong about the replacements. They're here. And guess who I saw with those babies."

"Who?"

"Webster. With all his sparkling blue eyes, puffy hair and chin as smooth as baby's butt. And I swear to God he grew more chest hair during his rehabilitation." he said with sarcasm thick enough to cut with a knife.

I can't blame George. As much as I love David, I could understand the men will possibly treated him as an outsider. Or worse, a traitor…since David didn't return to Easy in Bastogne as soon as possible. But I know him. I know he loved Easy ( _he's loyal, actually_ ) but he also hated this war and want stay away as long as he can from it.

George sighed "The men will hate him, Becca. Because he missed Bastogne. Talk to him, before he makes a fool of himself by acting too…cheery…in front of the men. They've suffered already."

"Do you hate him, George?" I asked.

"I won't lie to you, Princess. A part of me hated him because he could help us in Bastogne. We needed every single resources back then. But a part of me know that maybe he had his own reason why he didn't go AWOL. Also, he's your best friend. I cannot hate your best friend, Princess. Even though he's an asshole."

I smiled weakly "I do know his reason, George. I'll talk to him. Thank you, George…for being kind to him."

"You've changed me a lot, Princess." His smile was warm when he stroked my cheek and I couldn't help to leaned my face to his palm.

I'd like to say something equally romantic ( _and maybe kiss him?_ ), but he lowered his hand and took something out from his box and said "But first thing first. Here's clean uniform for you. And soap. Go get shower. You stink."

Aaaaannnddd…the sly George was back.

"Really, George? Really?! After those romantic and heartfelt things, you said that I stink?! Dammit…I'm a woman! You can't talk like that to a woman, you asshole!"

"Language, woman!"

And that's how my stapler found its way to George's forehead.

* * *

Some of the boys got opportunity to have hot shower in communal shower tent during our two weeks movement from Rachamps to Haguenau ( _It's a huge temptation for me to not 'accidentally' pass said tent and 'accidentally' look for a certain paratrooper in his birthday suit under the row of showers_ ). But the houses I billeted during the movement weren't provided with functioning bathroom. Or if it's functioning, the water was freezing and I didn't want to risk myself got pneumonia. So now I took my chances to thoroughly enjoy the private bathroom in Easy CP. And after an hour of scrubbing, scratching, washing, triple soaping and almost drowning in the bathtub ( _an honest to GOD bathtub… with lukewarm water - courtesy of one thoughtful George Luz. I admit I shed a single tear on the sight of it_ ), I felt like a human again.

The clean uniform felt heavenly in my skin. I dried my hair as much as possible before tied it in a loose bun. Then I went to the living room, where I know George was sorting supplies from Vest.

"Jesus. I thought you're drowning, Becca. One hour for showering?" George said while sorting Hershey bars.

"Shut up! It's your fault you provide me a bathtub with warm water. I just want to be a girl once in a while. This whole testosterone environment starts to rub off my femininity."

He scoffed "Said the tomboy."

I kicked his shin and satisfied with his not-so-manly yelp "Being a tomboy is not equal to deny that I'm a woman. And women have specific needs too. An hour of bathing in warm water is one of them."

"Yeah...okay…I really don't need mental image of you in a bathtub right now, you tease! By the way…Webster was here about 30 minutes ago. He said Malark sent him to check with the CO if he should be in 2nd Platoon. He looked…constipated."

 _Oh no…I think Davey already met the boys and had make himself in trouble._

George seemed like can read my mind because he continued "Yeah…I guess he messed up, because he talked very polite to me and Lip. Maybe he met the boys and said or asked the wrong thing."

I sighed "Dammit. I should talk to him first before taking a bath."

"Not your fault, Princess. And another thing, we got new replacement officer. Lieutenant Jones. West Pointer. Just graduate last year. On D-Day. Can you believe that?" he scoffed.

I sighed. "Old story, George."

"You don't say. You should see Nixon's face when he found out about that. He chuckling and said 'Don't get hurt'"

"Let's just hope this one got some brain and not action-hungry like that new Lieutenant from D company."

"The one that blew his foot off?"

I nodded.

George shook his head "All we want is to end this fucking war as soon as possible, and these babies parading their wet butt looking for action, risking his own life and his fellow men, so they would have something to brag to their families back home. Un-fucking-believable."

I took his hand and curled my fingers into his "Hey…We're gonna make through this. You want to see my dad's monkey, don't you?"

He smiled weakly and stroked my cheek with his other hand. Then he leaned his head as if he wants to kiss me.

His face was only inches away from mine when Speirs barged in with hands full of shiny things. He kept walking and said flatly "No display of affection during working hours" without even glanced at us. He dropped his stuffs on a table in the living room and then left the house again (most likely for another 'house inspection'), leaving George and I froze in embarrassment.

 _Shiiiiittt….is there any limit to how much the human body can endure humiliation before it spontaneously combust?_

George scratched his nose while I felt like I want to dig my own foxhole and stay there until this war was over.

* * *

Yep…Davey was definitely made fools of himself, judging by his body language (he's super quiet and polite) and the boys' (Joe and Johny Martin especially) somewhat hostile treatment to him.

George was being pestered by Martin and Cobb when Davey came in with Joe and one baby-faced Lieutenant. Davey looked like he wanted to hug me, but he only nodded minutely and kept quiet.

"Whoa…Hershey bars!" Joe shout like a 5-years-old.

George sighed "Jesus Christ"

Cobb cut in "Wait your turn, Liebgott."

Joe pretend not to hear and reached for the chocolate "Yeah, who are they for?"

George slapped Joe's hand and snapped "Not you, Lieb."

Joe pouted "Oh, come on, George, one bar."

George yelled "No! There's not enough to go around."

I sighed "Jesus…it's like watching boys fighting for toys."

George looked at me and said indignantly "Excuse me, Princess. But we're not boys. We're men"

I scoffed "Could have fooled me"

I was saved from George's rant because Lieutenant MacYoung cut in "Captain Speirs here?"

George answered politely "Down by the river, Sir."

Davey was silent all the time, but I've known him long enough that I know he desperately want to talk to me.

"Hey, big mouth, give the kid a Hershey bar, huh?" squeaked someone from the living room.

"Frank!" I yelled while George grinned "You gotta be shittin' me."

"Hiya, Princess." Frank grinned back. With his all-white teeth. Apparently being shot in the ass, which means he spent his time in the hospital with said ass in the air, didn't stop him to brush his teeth vigorously. He then greet the others "What's up, guys? I like what you did with the place, George."

"Yeah, yeah, I did good, huh? How you feeling?"

"As long as you keep your hands off my ass, I'll be fine."

George laughed and threw him chocolate "Have a Hershey."

Joe glared "He gets a fuckin' Hershey bar?"

"Well, he got shot in the ass." George reasoned which only make Joe got more pissed off.

Martin walked to Frank, hugged him and asked "Did I tell you to stick your big ass out in the wind?"

"No, but I expect a little sympathy from you, right?" Frank said. His grin never left his face.

"I should rub it for you?" Martin acted like he wanted to grab Frank's ass. The little guy wiggled away.

Lieutenant Jones looked amused. Davey, I noticed, watched the entire exchange with envy. His coming back was not welcomed that warm.

As if realized Davey's mind, Martin pated Frank's shoulder and said "Hey, can you believe this guy? I try to get him out of the fuckin' war, and he comes straight back."

 _Oh God._ George and I looked at each other, fully understand Martin's meaning by saying that. Davey lowered his gaze and played with his helmet.

Frank, oblivious as always, said "Yeah, well, that's not what I heard. I heard the Krauts are finished."

Joe huffed "Yeah, well, just to make sure, we gotta row across the fuckin' river tonight, grab a few, and ask 'em in person."

Frank gapped "Are you kidding me?"

Joe mumbled "Wish I was. Welcome back, Frank."

George cut in "Yeah, oh, Jesus, that reminds me, Web. I need you to run these to OP two for me. Grenade launchers for the night patrol, huh?" He then gave Davey a box of explosive. Davey looked so grateful; he hastily put on his helmet. "Any day now, Web. There you go." George added "Hey, you know what? Send these too." And he threw some stuff to the box on Davey's hand.

Joe smirked and pat Davey's hand "You been working out?"

Davey's ear gone pink but he kept silent and received anything George throw on his box.

Vest came in with another box of supplies and said "Did you hear what happened on D Company's patrol last night? Replacement lieutenant blew his foot off. Stepped on a Schu mine. Fresh in from West Point. Had to come back empty-handed."

George put a cig on his mouth and said innocently "No shit. Maybe he's a friend of yours, Lieutenant?"

I nudged his ribs and glared at him. He shrugged. The young lieutenant looked paled. I suppressed the urge to slap George up on his head.

Cobb made the situation worse when he asked "Hey, Vest, what you got in there? More Hershey Bars and Lucky Strikes for you rear-echelon freaks to hoard, huh?"

George snapped at him "Hey, Cobb, with the mouth, please. The kid's just trying to do his job, all right? Jesus Christ. You know what? To hell with it. Count 'em up, Vest. I gotta go blast this house. Come on, Princess. Wanna show you how a man playing with the big gun."

I sighed "A solid proof that boys are never grow up. They just upgrade their toys."

"Men! Not Boys!"

I smiled and said "Of course" magnanimously.

George grumbled and grabbed his equipment "You coming, Perco?". Frank shook his head so George said "Make yourself useful, watch this shit for me."

In which I want to remind George that leaving Frank responsible in sorting supplies was a dangerous move.

But before I able to say anything, George was start leaving the room and said "Web, you're coming with me."

And I want to kiss the hell out of him. Davey looked grateful.

Lieutenant Baby Face asked "Sergeant, is Captain Speirs gonna be where you're headed?"

Sergeant? Oh right. George still used his T-4 badge. The Liutenant didn't know that this menace has been demoted to Private.

George grinned at me as if he knew what I was thinking.

 _The little shit._

"Same vicinity, yeah." George said.

"All right, then I'll join you."

Davey followed us like a puppy "Where are we going?"

"To the house I gotta blast."

Vest cut in "Captain Winters gonna be with him?"

George sighed "Jesus, look, I don't know, maybe."

"Then I'm coming too."

And the shit finally hit the fan because Martin, Cobb and Joe started to grab the chocolates. Frank's squeaks "I'm supposed to watch these" and "but I got a wounded ass" in desperate attempt to maintain control were deliberately ignored.

* * *

as always...please leave your review ^_^


	18. Chapter 18 - Easy Company

Hi All,

Thank you for the review, new readers and new follower *hugs*.

Some part of this Chapter are taken from "Parachute Infantry" by David Webster, "Beyond Band of Brothers" by Richard Winters, "Brothers in Battle, Best of Friends" by Bill Guarnere and Babe Heffron, some Tumblr post that I've read sometimes ago (please notify me if you recognize it, I want to put the source here) and some poking through National Archives.

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you have any ideas or see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

Oh...Don't forget to leave your review ^_^

* * *

 **Webster**

When I reached Haguenau and saw Easy jumping down the truck, I felt good to be back with fellows I knew and could trust. Listening to their chatter in the truck, I felt warm and relaxed inside, like a lost child who has returned to a bright home full of love after wandering in a cold black forest.

But then I realized that the company wasn't what it used to be. They hated me. The guys I knew were either gone or very different from what I remembered.

I was a veteran of D-day and Market-Garden and had been with the regiment since its formation, but now, because I had missed Bastogne, I was treated as a replacement and felt like I was starting all over again.

George has been kind. But I think it's because I was Becca's best friend, he kind of tolerate me. It's very awkward back there in the CP. So I was very relieved when he asked me to follow him to blast this house. That's very thoughtful.

I walked behind George and Becca to the house George was ordered to blast. We reached a park that must be beautiful before the war when George stopped and faced Becca and I.

"Okay. I think this place is private enough. Becca, don't you want to hug Web here?"

Becca looked like she wanted to cry with relief and love and other happy things. She hugged me fiercely and I mouthed "Thank you" to George.

He smiled fondly to us.

"God…Davey…It's good to have you back."

"Me too, Becca. But I don't think the men don't share the same sentiments with you."

"You have to understand, Davey. Bastogne was very hard. It changed people."

"I know. I've read the paper."

"The papers took it mild, Web. The reality was…" George never finished the sentence. He looked grieved. He took a deep breath before added "It's not just pants-shitting level of terror, Web. It's your-friend-shredded-in-front-of-you-and-you-dig-their-remains-with-your-bare-hands level of terror. We're short of ammo, we didn't wear any winter clothing, we're hungry all the time, and we're losing men in alarming rate. That place was hell. Even Becca, who was in the city, got the taste of it. Did you know that she's almost die?"

I feel an ice formed in my stomach.

"Becca? Really? You never said anything in your letters."

She nodded "I was helping the regimental aid station when the Luftwaffe bombed the city. Renee, a nurse, saved me. But she didn't make it."

I felt numb with guilt.

"I'm sorry. I didn't…I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you have your reason for not join us in Bastogne, Web." George said. "But please try to understand the other men too. They feel…betrayed."

"I know." I said weakly. "I know. I've asked Lieutenant Jones to talk to Malark to switch places for the patrol. Malark looked like he needed rest. But it's still Captain Winters' decision."

George smiled "That's good. You did right, Web. Malark had seen action since D-day. And he lost Skip and Penk in Bastogne."

 _Oh God._ "Muck and Penkala?"

George smiled sadly "Yes. Their foxhole got direct hit. Right in front of me. And Buck reached his breaking point when he saw Toye's and Bill's mangled legs. Malark lost most of his closest friends in only days."

That explained the men attitude towards me. They've lost so much.

"I'll do whatever it takes to get their trust back." I assured him.

George chuckled "Ever so dramatic. You should write a book or something. Like Hemingway."

I smiled "That's my plan actually. I want to write a book from soldier's perspective. I want to document the war from the foxhole. Maybe something like a memoir of an Airborne infantryman. Mother asked me to finished college so at least I can be an officer. But I don't want to lead. The air up there is too thin for my liking." I huffed before I added "I am much of an observer. Please be assured I am here for my duty for my country. I will never let my buddy down in combat. But I'll never volunteer for anything…including went AWOL from hospital. I hope…I hope…you understand."

"Just make sure you say and do the right thing in front of the men. They're not as tolerant as me. You're an observer. I know you can figure what's right."

This man, only one year older than me and a reputable jokester, has changed into a mature gentleman. Becca was so lucky to have him. I was happy for them.

"And because you're Becca's best buddy, I cannot hate you even though I really reaaally want to beat your rich college ass for not help us in Bastogne. And how the hell you can grow so much chest hair during rehab?"

Nope. I stand corrected. He's still the same menace.

* * *

 **Vest**

I've survived Sobel's killer training regime in Toccoa. I even survived D-Day. I didn't know why they assign me to sorting supplies and mails and type morning reports. Even that Becca girl got some action. Well…if you called translator for Krauts PoW interrogation was an action. Damn, that girl must be proficient in thousand languages. I've heard she talked in German, French and some Russian. No wonder Colonel Sink wanted her to be his aide.

But blessed Captain Winters and his kind heart, this night I would be on the patrol. God forbid if it's true the Krauts are finished, I haven't really done anything except clerical jobs. Finally I had something interesting to write for my seven little brothers back home.

Somebody knocked the door. Eugene Jackson grinned at me and waved "Hey Allen…writing letter to your wife?"

"Oh…hey Eugene. Come in. No…it's for my brothers. Captain Winters allowed me to be on this night patrol. So finally I got something interesting to write home."

"Oh good. Me too. Hey..What do you think about our new Lieutenant?"

"He's very young. I don't think Captain Winters will allow him to lead the patrol."

"Who then?"

"I don't know. Malark maybe? Or Grant, Martin? Maybe Mo or Shifty?"

"Yeah…NCOs rule the world…Hey…um…you got letters for me?"

"Let's see" I searched his letters from the pile in front of me "Eugene Jackson…Eugene Jackson….oh here they are. You got two. One from Westmoreland and one from….Aldbourne? You got a lady friend in Aldbourne?"

His face reddened. "Gimme that!"

"Come on...tell me! Who's the lucky broad?!"

"Just some local girl…Jane…she volunteers for the British Red Cross."

"That's very kind of her. So is it serious?"

"I think it is. I mean…maybe after this shits over I will asked her to marry me."

"Jesus! That's serious. Are you sure, Eugene?"

"Asked the man who married when he's only 19."

I grinned. "Touché"

At that point, George Luz entering the APO with a box of…things. "Hiya Vest…Jackson…" He dropped the box in my desk.

"Hey George. Done playing with the big gun?"

"It's awesome! Like shootin' fish in a rain barrel. I haven't had so much fun since I shot my crazy Great Uncle that one time. Anytime you want anybody blasted up, mother–in-law, dumbass officer or blood sucking lawyer, just give me a ring. Asked the Operator for Luz. Even Web looked like Christmas come early." George grinned maniacally.

I scoffed "Hah…I bet he celebrate last Christmas with his butt warmed in England."

"Hey…give that boy some slack, will ya? He's a nice kid albeit a little pretentious. So…you got a box for these things?"

"Captain Speirs?" I asked, unnecessarily.

"Like you know any other man who will need a box for 'saved war artefacts' like these." George answered while putting a cig on his mouth. Jesus, he's smoking like a train.

I chuckled "Okay. I'll find one. Send to same address?"

He nodded "Yep…for the Missus."

Jackson shook his head "I still can't believe there's a woman want to married him. He's creepy and one bad ass motherfucker."

George shrugged "Well, the Missus is a member of ATS, you know…British's WAC. So…yeah…They perfect for each other. I think they will produce some band of warrior babies at some point in the future."

Jackson and I both shuddered at the image.

George blow an impressive amount of smoke before asked "So Captain Winters allow you for tonight's patrol, Vest?"

"Yup. Me, Eugene, and most of 2nd Platoon."

George huffed solemnly "Always 2nd Platoon. Good luck then, Boys. May God protect our sorry asses." And then he left the office with Jackson's and my "Amen."

No one was happy with this patrol. Crossing the Moder River in the middle of the night to snatch Krauts when the war was most likely comes to an end sounded like a suicide mission. Thank goodness Lieutenant Jones agreed to become an observer instead of leading the patrol. Captain Winters ordered Martin to lead. Martin looked pissed off but that's basically his default expression. That little man pissed off on anything.

One thing you should do if your mission involved crossing a body of water, was to make sure that you can swim. And if you can't, mention it to your squad leader. Sisk seemingly forgot this simple rule and nearly jeopardize the entire patrol when his rubber boat turned over. We're lucky the Krauts didn't fire at us considering the ruckus of one skinny person could make.

The order was simple: get some Krauts prisoners. All we need to do was cross the river, snatched the Krauts, destroy their outpost using a time delay explosive (Web's job), and withdraw to our side of the river with the PoW while the whole battalion covering for us. The first part was relatively success, with the exception of Skinny's incident. It's when we execute the second phase that the hell broke loose.

It's Jackson.

He took his own grenade fragment from the enemy OP.

Right in front of me.

I panicked.

So far I've been the relative safety of clerical jobs. Seeing blood of my friend that just this afternoon talked about his girlfriend in Aldbourne, made me frozen in shock.

The withdrawal afterward felt like in haze. Ramirez and I drag Jackson to our rubber boat. Jackson repeatedly said "I don't wanna die." His voice was gurgling. The shrapnel had hit his throat.

And he's crying.

The only thing I could say was "You're okay, Jackson…you're gonna be okay."

With sheer dumb luck, we made it into our side. Bullets flying above us.

And for an unexplainable reason, Doc Roe was not waiting for us on the side of the river.

We brought Jackson to the nearest basement.

Popeye dragged the Krauts prisoners to the back of the room.

We put Jackson on the table. McClung went to Company CP to report while Martin went for Doc Roe.

Jackson gasping painfully on the table. Gurgling. Wheezing. Crying.

"I can't do this…I can't do this" I found myself muttered.

The fucking Kraut prisoners couldn't shut their mouth even though Webster repeatedly ordered them to shut the fuck up.

And then we heard explosion from the house above us. The Krauts from the other side of the river showering us with their arties.

 _GOD DAMN IT!_

I only saw red when I unconsciously lashed out to the Krauts prisoners "You think you're running this war?!"

I felt someone yanked and pinned me to the wall and hold on my wrist. It's Lieutenant Jones. I realized was holding my side arm. I didn't even remember when I took it from my holster.

He yelled "What do you think you're doing?! We're not gonna get more prisoners because you killed one!" When I kept trashing to get off of him. He said more softly "Private! Listen to me, Private!"

"He's gonna die!" I heard myself said. I could feel my tears on my face.

"It's gonna be okay…it's gonna be okay" he said

My knees finally gave out and I sat on the crates beside me, watching the men try to calm Jackson. It didn't work. Jackson kept trashing and said "I don't wanna die"

When Doc Roe came, he immediately checked for Jackson's vital. His soothing voice finally made Jackson calm.

What Doc's saw made him ordered the men to move Jackson. That made Jackson panic again. He sobbed "I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!"

Doc frantically tried to calm him "It's okay, Jackson. You're all right."

That's when Jackson started to make sound like he's choked. "God! Oh, my God!"

Doc's shouting now "Jackson! You're not gonna die! I need you to hang on!"

Jackson was gurgling.

Doc's shouting again "Jackson!"

And then silent.

 _No. Nonononono. Please no._

Doc looked defeated. He looked up to Babe and shook his head.

 _Dear, God…No._

I couldn't hold back my tears and sobbed.

Lieutenant Jones's hand was shaking and gripping my shoulder.

Martin took a blanket from Skinny's shoulder and covered Jackson's body with it.

Nobody said a word.

Later in the morning, in the same office I talked to Jackson the day before about his girlfriend he planned to married, I wrote the report of last night patrol

 _Results :_

 _Two German prisoners._

 _Casualties :_

 _Pvt. Eugene E. Jackson ASN: 13011296 Westmoreland, PA KIA_

* * *

 **Winters**

I gave the Colonel a successful patrol.

 _Successful._

 _Was Jackson's death worth it?_ _Two German prisoners with questionable value of information on the price of one young man in his twenties who was only want to go home._

And the Colonel wanted another one.

Speirs had the men mustered for the second patrol.

With the same roster.

 _Mostly._

"Captain, Sir."

I looked up "Yes, Becca. What can I do for you?"

"The official order for tonight patrol from the Colonel, Sir" She gave me a slip of paper "But I'm sure he's already ordered you in person about it."

I sighed "Thank you, Becca."

She hesitated for a while before she said "Permission to speak, Sir? But I have to ask you to keep this for yourself."

I nodded "Granted."

"The Colonel…he's getting too elated about last night patrol. Also his friend, Colonel Harper from Glider Regiment, come to visit. And...um…some amount alcohol was involved. I think he…he want to brag." She lowered her head guiltily. "He's a good commander, Sir. But, in my opinion, the order didn't make sense. No need to risk another life when the war is almost over."

I sighed "I understand, Becca. I have the same opinion."

"I know you cannot disobey direct order. But can you think of something, Sir?"

"I was considering some alternatives, to be honest."

She started to smile, somewhat wickedly, which looked exactly like Luz's smirk when he wanted to start trouble. _Brace yourself, Winters_. "So, Sir. What if, hypothetically, you don't have to do the patrol and there's someone in the regiment who, hypothetically, will help you to make a false report for the Colonel, for example: myself. Hypothetically, will it work?"

I smiled "Hypothetically, the men should sleep on their billet tonight and make them promise not to leave their billet until morning."

"Why you two talking like scientists? Hypothetical and all?" Lewis sneaked in…as usual. Becca startled and mumbling something about cow bells.

"Nothing, Lew. Becca here just give me some ideas that might make me disobey direct order."

"I thought that's my job." Lewis looked betrayed.

* * *

 **Malarkey**

So the second patrol never happened. Captain Nixon and Becca wrote up a bogus report, and regiment never got wise.

We're moving off the line the day after.

Finally.

I've served more consecutive time on the front line than any other Easy men.

I've seen my friends died.

I've seen my friends reached their breaking point.

I was exhausted.

Maybe I was destined to be the last man standing? I don't know it'll be a gift or a curse.

I felt someone tap my shoulder. "You okay there, Malark?" George stood beside me, holding two cups of coffee. He offered me one.

"Not sure, George." I took one cup and use it to warm my cold hands.

"I missed your red hair." George has this penchant for random thoughts.

I chuckled "Yeah…apparently being the last man standing did that to my hair color."

George smiled. Sadly.

We stood in silence for a while before I was able to speak again. "Why am I still alive, George? Why me? Skip got Faye. Penk got 12 brothers and sisters who need him back home."

George shrugged. "As cliché as it may sound, but I believe God has plans for us."

I scoffed "What plan? For being a hollowed man that every day in his remaining live will remember how his friends shredded in pieces…how his friends broken down beyond repar?"

George looked at me and said carefully "Is that how you want to remember them? In shredded pieces? In their lowest point? Because I want to remember Skip for his jokes about mango, naked native girls and flamingo and his silly devotion for Faye. I want to remember Penk for his witty remarks and his annoyance every time Skip smooching Faye's picture. I want to remember Bill and his hilarious sexcapades and finally paid the price by pissing needles. I want to remember Toye and his precious brass-knuckles and his loyalty to the point of idiocy for his buddies. I want to remember Buck as the poster boy of Aryan perfection. Hell…I even want to remember Web's habit of sprouting unnecessary and unwanted trivia. That boy is like a walking dictionary. And I want to remember you, Malark, as the dumbass Mick who groping dead Krauts, looking for Luger in Brecourt. "

I managed to smile a little.

"Try to remember them in their finest moment, Malark. And tell people back home that we had fought alongside the bravest men on earth. That's the least we can do for those who never came home."

"War is hell." I mumbled.

"And we'll keep going. At least we won't fear the real one because we've already lived in one." George smile kindly and then he said "Babe said to me once…that the men who went to war and never walked back through their mother's front door, they're the hero. They went to fight to their country and they died doing right. Everyone should know that."

"Babe said that?"

"Yup…amazing huh? Our Ginger Baby has grown up."

I nodded.

He drank his coffee and patted my back. "Now…I want you to go find Randleman and stand next to him."

"Huh? What for?" I frowned. I should have been used to his habit of suddenly changed a subject, but this was the strangest ever.

"So I can call you two Sergeant Bullshits." He grinned like a loon.

Even though that's the corniest joke I've ever heard, that's how George Luz made me laugh for the first time since Bastogne.


	19. Chapter 19 - George

Hi All,

Sorry for the late updates.

As always, thank you for your messages, reviews, new readers and new follower.

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

* * *

"We have to sleep in those?"

Web blurted that out when we arrived in Camp Mourmelon and saw that we have to sleep in large green twelve-man wall tents.

Tents.

Not barracks.

Tents.

In February.

In Europe.

Un-fucking-believable.

We all think the same thing, to be honest, but since aforementioned person has no filter between brain and mouth in regards of obvious things that shouldn't be said and unwanted and/or unnecessary trivia, he's the only one who said that out loud.

Major ( _finally the universe and US Army have some fucking sense of fairness regarding his workload_ ) Winters patted Web's shoulder ( _in which made Web's face resembling a very ripe tomato for being caught have a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease_ ) and said "Sorry, Webster. That's all we've got. But at least now we have enough hot showers for everyone."

Ah…ever so positive and fatherly for a person that nicknamed Dick.

"And tonight we had field exercise, Gents. Prepare yourself."

The collective groans that followed were epic.

Yeah so…finally we were pulled off from the front line. It's about damn time! But that didn't mean we're free to rest. Major Winters put a rigorous training regime to integrate us with the new replacements. That's right. We got new babies!

So in general, life's great. So far. We're able to wash away the Eau de Homeless that we've donned for the last two and a half months, we got new babies to trained and/or bullied, we got warm food and steady supply of Lucky Strikes, and we got nearly unlimited access to the hooch, courtesy of the ever resourceful Captain Nixon.

Between the trainings, Joe and I arranged the roster for goldbricking to get out of field exercises. We would take turn to report on sick call in the morning. Speirs would ask the trouble, grunt, and send us to the aid station. There we could get admitted to the hospital for a day. A day of just lying around, reading magazines (and ' _magazines'_ …if you know what I mean). It was easy to pull. We all did it, but never more than twice. Joe and I also provide the excuses for each trip.

"So whose turn is now?" Joe asked me.

"Huh? Oh…um…" I opened my sorry excuse of a notebook and looked on the list. "It's Frank. Hey Maggot! It's your turn now. The excuse is….explosive diarrhea."

Frank whined "Dammit! Can't I have more dignified excuse? Like vertigo or something?"

I scoffed "Dignified? What the hell is dignity and did you ever have any? Skinny already used Vertigo two days ago. Now drag your teeny tiny butt to Captain Speirs and report for sick call or I'll give this opportunity to..." I consulted my list again "Babe."

Frank opened his mouth for another argument but Joe cut it "Or you want to try 'brain damage'? That's the truth anyway."

Frank muttered "Assholes" but he walked towards Captain Speirs's office nevertheless.

"Enjoy you sick leave! May you brush your teeth in peace!" I cheered him heartily. And I got a middle finger salute for that. Jeez…Some people just didn't appreciate my thoughtfulness.

* * *

"Luz. Notify the men, there will be a division parade next week. General Eisenhower will come. I want you all prepared." Speirs said.

"Eisenhower, Sir?" _IKE! THE FAMOUS IKE!_

 _But that's fucking HUGE!_

"Yes. Also General Taylor, Lt. Gen. Morgan, Lt. Gen. Brereton, President Roosevelt's secretary Stephen Early, Maj. Gen. Ridgway, and some others brass."

 _Holy shit! We will parade before the most brass the men had ever seen!_

"Oh…And did you know? Dike is now General Taylor new aide. I just heard this from Captain Nixon."

I gaped for a second or two or maybe five before can formulate an answer "Dumb people usually clustered together, Sir. Strength in number or some shit like that. That's the only logical explanation."

Speirs chuckled "You got that right."

So days after that announcement were full of scrubbed and washed, polished and shined, disassembled, cleaned and reassembled all weapons. Ribbons were dug up and positioned precisely on the blouse. We painted our helmets, stenciled the insignia of the 506th on the side, and when they were dry, we oiled them until they glistened in the sun; Ike would be blinded. We practiced the parade over and over again.

And then the day came.

The officers got us on the parade ground and then we wait.

For three. Fucking. Hours.

After standing under the sun that felt like eternity, Ike and his party finally arrived. We all cursed the Army and its ways.

Ike drove past the whole division, and then climbed up on a reviewing stand to give a speech. He announced that the division had received a Presidential Distinguished Unit Citation, the first time in the history of the Army that an entire division had been so cited, for its performance at Bastogne.

Ike said in his praise: "You were given a marvelous opportunity in Bastogne, and you met every test. ... I am awfully proud of you. With this great honor goes also a certain responsibility. Just as you are the beginning of a new tradition, you must realize, each of you, that from now on, the spotlight will beat on you with particular brilliance. Whenever you say you are a soldier of the 101st Division, everybody, whether it's on the street, in the city, or in the front line, will expect unusual conduct of you. I know that you will meet every test of the future like you met it at Bastogne."

It's the proudest moment of my life.

* * *

"You guys better be decent. I'm entering the tent."

Becca entered the tent and welcomed with a chorus of "Becca!" from Frank, "Hi Bec" from Web, "Hallo Hübsche" from Joe (complete with exaggerated smacks of 'Mwah!' on her cheeks), "Hi Chérie" from Roe, variations of "Hey" from the other boys, and an enthusiastic "Princess Becca-Poo!" from me ( _okay…maybe a little bit overly enthusiastic. But I haven't seen her in weeks with all those trainings and field exercises. So shut up!_ ).

She flicked my forehead with her fingers and growled "You shouldn't be allowed to live. It's against the laws of evolution."

I rubbed my forehead and frowned ( _and no. I was definitely NOT pouting_ ). It's not actually hurt but the boys were laughing at me, and I have reputation and shit.

"Did you just flick me? That's domestic violence." I grumbled.

"Giorgio…Darling…I'm sorry. I didn't know you have such a delicate feeling."

I huffed "And here I am, once dreaming to marry some pretty-womanly-graceful Princess or whatever the fuck and have some kids, but well…. You're the only skirt in proximity…So…Tag, you're it."

"Aww…look at you, catching on with the insults. I'm so proud of you." And she smiled indulgently and patted my cheek.

 _Dammit. She's getting wittier._

"Hey Becca…any gossips? Easy join Operation Varsity or not?" Joe cut in. This was one rare time I thankfully acknowledge the existence of Joe Liebgott.

Becca shook her head "Sorry, boys. But the brass gave it to the 17th Division."

The veterans nodded their understanding. The replacements groaned.

One baby replacement, O'Keefe, squeaked "Do you think they will let us to jump to Berlin, Miss?"

Becca smiled "Just call me Becca, kiddo. I don't know, to be honest. But I can assure you, boys, the end of this war is in sight."

The veterans looked very glad. We now believed what they could not believe at Bastogne, that we were going to make it. Safe. More or less intact. It's true that the garrison life was boring, but we resolved not to take any chances that might blow our opportunity to back home safe.

I heard O'Keefe mumbled "I hope I still can make a combat jump."

Frank smacked him on his head and said "Shut your yap, O'Brien."

"It's O'Keefe." The baby said indignantly.

"I don't fucking care." Frank said flatly and continue reading his letters. Whatever said in those letters, Frank looked like he's not happy.

Becca and I exchanged worried glances before she continued "Only Captain Nixon will join Operation Varsity. He'll be an observer. While the rest of us, might be entering Germany using trucks."

Web looked up from his book "I had hoped to make another jump, rather than ride to the front in trucks, which appeals to me more than a prosaic infantry attack against an enemy who knows where you are and when you're coming."

Jesus…this man still did not know what to say and what to keep for himself.

Joe smirked "Well at least you'll experienced tail gate jump, Web. You missed it in Bastogne."

Web's face reddened, realizing his mistakes ( _and another epic foot-in-mouth case. Good job, Web_ ).

Becca gave Web I'll-straighten-you-out-later glare (Web shrank further to his book) before she said "We'll be entering enemy territory. That means we'll be billeted in German houses. The Army has issued nonfraternization policy with German civilians."

Joe scoffed "Like I want to play house with Krauts."

Joe's undying hatred with the Krauts was well known. But most of us still felt that most of the atrocities we had heard about what the Germans did to the Jews and other minorities were propaganda. Yes, we're fight in the opposing side, but some of the men admired the German soldiers they had fought. We would soon see for ourselves whether all the Germans were Nazis, and if the Nazis were as bad as the Allied press and radio said they were.

I patted Joe's shoulder "We'll entering their country as conquering hero, buddy. Winning the war will increase our sexiness level several notch." I deliberately ignored Becca's snort. "Broads will throw their self to us. And maybe….you'll rescue a nice Jewish girl with superb titties and she'll be forever indebted to you so she'll marry you and give you a bunch of little Liebgotts."

Becca crossed her arm in front of her and glared "So you are targeting a damsel in distress, make her feel indebted to you… so you can get laid? That's low."

I shrugged "I've done worse for less."

Becca shook her head. Resigned. "I'm not even gonna ask"

"So when we start moving?" asked Roe. "I have to prepare some supply. And Babe…you throw that thing to me again, and I will remove your goddam appendix while you sleep." Babe stop mid-throwing paper ball behind Roe and sulkily walked back to his bed.

Becca shrugged. "I don't know the exact schedule. But maybe in April."

"Jesus, I just hope this fucking war will end soon." Frank said gloomily from his bed. "I wanna see Richard. I just missed his 1st Birthday." He's looking at a photo that came with the letter.

The tent went silent with that.

* * *

Things I could say about the Germans were that they were efficient, disciplined and hard-working. If I had to make comparison, the Brits were dull, reserved, but supremely brave. The French were slow, ungrateful sometimes, and cunning- indifferent whether they betraying Germans or the Americans. The Dutch were the best; they are wonderful in every ways.

Despite myself, I couldn't help to think that German also the closest thing that felt like home. We stayed in houses with running hot and cold water, electric light, a proper toilet and toilet paper ( _HALLELUJAH!_ ), and coal for the stove. We get to drink real coffee that didn't taste like horse piss and we can cook food from fresh ingredients that finally won't give us either constipation or explosive diarrhea ( _just make sure Malarkey didn't do the cooking, and everybody will be happy and healthy_ ).

Non-fraternization policy was proofed impossible to enforce. The first thing the men did when they had spare time was looking for broads. Web's becoming everybody's darling since he's willing to be a translator for the boys. Nobody fool enough to ask for Joe's and Becca's help.

Every morning we take turn to 'scrounging' milk, egg, or any fresh vegetables from neighboring farms or houses. I must be done something extremely bad in my previous live, since I was partnered with Frank for this mission. I mean…we're both city boys. We didn't know shit about harvesting egg or milking cow.

"You grab the hen, I pick the eggs. Easy peasy, George."

"You don't know shit about farm animals. And why the hell I have to be the one who grab the chick. That thing got sharp beak, Frank. Sharp. Yeah. What if it pecks me on my artery? I could die!"

"Jeez…drama queen much, George? 'Sides…You got thicker skin. You'll be okay."

"I hate you."

"Hey cretins! Wait for me!" Becca shouted.

I groaned "If we're cretins, then you're a….a….a simpleton."

"Dammit, Frog. You forgot to drink your coffee this morning? Because that's just lame."

"My brain's still asleep, Princess. And I had to steal some egg with this midget. No. I rephrase that. I have to risk my life holding the chicken, so this midget can freely grab the eggs."

"Your Frog is a drama queen, Becca."

"Tell me about it." She said flatly.

"I had my ups and downs." I snapped and walked to the targeted barn. I faintly heard Frank said "It's like he's menstruating." to Becca that followed by her laugh.

 _Those little shits!_

"By the way…what's the name of this town?" I changed the subject. "I never able to pronounce it correctly. Too many consonant, not enough vowels."

"Maybe you don't have enough brain cells to pronounce it." Frank said.

"What's this? Amateur Comedy Hour: Asshole Edition? It's my duty to insult your brain power, Frank. Not the other way around. That's how the universe works."

Becca chuckled "Finally. You got your mojo back. It's Sturzelberg, by the way."

"You'll have to spell it for me. I want to write it on my letters to Mom. Is that the barn, Frank?"

"I think it is. Come on. Let's get it done. I'm hungry."

Frank and I climb up the ladder to get to the chicken coop. Becca stays on the ground. Cheerleading. The hens clucked noisily because we apparently disturb their nap. Sorry, hen.

"Come on, chicken." I truly didn't know how to address barn animal.

"All right, this one got some, George. You, uh…you grab the chicken and I'm gonna grab the eggs."

I suppressed the urge to spat 'brilliant strategy, Sherlock!' So instead I said "Great. Fine. I'll just grab her by the foot. Come on, Chicken. If this thing bites me, Frank, I swear I'll shoot it."

At that moment, a German girl was entering the barn and gaped at the sight of two G.I.s struggling with chickens. Ah…Good! I can ask her to barter the eggs and maybe some fresh milk with chocolate and cigarettes.

"Guten tag, Fraulein." I said cheerily. _What? I can be nice to woman._

The German girl answered nervously "Guten tag." I saw Becca frowned at me. Dammit. She could help with translation here. But the German girl bolted out the barn.

"Hold on!" I shouted. I throw the chicken and start to ran after her. Becca looked livid. What the hell was wrong with her?

I can hear Frank shouted "Come on, George!"

I ran after the German girl and finally catch her on another barn with cows in it. Oh this is great. Thank God, I brought enough chocolate and cigarettes to be bartered. "Hold on a second! Come on, I just wanna talk to you." I didn't understand why this girl was afraid of me. I mean….my face was not that scary, was it?

"Ich verstehen nicht." She said.

Dammit, Becca. Where were you when I need a translator? So I took out my chocolate and offered it to her. "Here, look what I got. Chocolate bar. Huh? You like that? You like chocolate?"

She took it hastily. Frank and Becca were entering the barn. Frank with a helmet full of eggs on his hand and Becca with her arms crossed in front of her.

Frank said "Luz, why don't you leave her alone?"

Wait…did he just call me Luz? What the fuck? "Frank, why don't you leave me alone, okay? Becca, a little help here?"

Becca nostril literally flared. She looked murderous. Frank looked uncomfortable. What the hell with these people? I ignored them. Fine. I'd get the eggs and milk for myself.

I talked to the German girl again "You don't like chocolate either. How about this? Cigarettes. Camel."

The German girl picked the cigarettes. Good!

"You like that, huh?" I smiled. Try to make her comfortable.

"Luz!" Frank shouted.

Dammit.

"Frank, please. Why don't you go make your omelet!"

Becca harrumphed at this and stormed out the barn. Frank followed her after he said "Well, you're not getting any of my eggs, blockhead."

Ha! We'll see. After this, I'll get more eggs AND fresh milk.

But it turned out, gesturing milking cow can be interpreted into something lewd. Talk about lost in translation. So instead of getting more eggs and milk I got a healthy smack from the Fraulein. Jesus…those arms were strong.

"Hey, Frank! Becca! Hold up."

They keep walking. Ignoring me. Jeez…What's with these people?

"Perc! Princess! Jesus, come on!"

Both of them glared at me. "What?!" I asked. Confused.

A jeep drove pass through us, with Captain Nixon in it. He should be with the 17th division in Operation Varsity.

"That Captain Nixon?" I asked.

"I think so." Frank said.

"What the hell's he doing in his harness?"

"I don't know. Maybe we've jump to Berlin and the war is over."

"Yeah, huh?"

Becca walked in silence. I nudged her "Princess, you okay?"

She just glared.

Frank asked "So, what happened? No dice with the Fraulein?"

I rubbed my face "No dice. She smacked me in the mouth."

Frank snorted.

Becca made a cynical laugh "What? Brunhilda and her décolletage turned down the Mighty Manly George Luz?"

I sputtered "What the..? Brunhilda? Well if you stay long enough, you could help me translating so she didn't mistake my gesture of milking the cow with something dirty."

She stopped "Wait…what?"

I sighed "I tried to barter my cigarettes with eggs and milk. But since _you_ _weren't there_ and I didn't understand German, I was gesturing milking cow and apparently she took it wrong. So she smacked me."

Becca blushed in…was that embarrassment? "Oh…I thought…" she said timidly "I thought you want to…seduce her."

"Are you crazy?! Why the hell I want to do that?"

Becca didn't answer that. She just smiled shyly and curled her hand on mine.

Frank mumbled "Idiots."

Yeah…maybe I was. I lose my cigarettes to Brunhilda after all.

* * *

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	20. Chapter 20 - Becca

Hi All,

Sorry for the late update.

As always, thank you for your messages, reviews, new readers and followers. *big hug for you ^_^*

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

* * *

Okay…lessons learned: (1) jealousy can make you did stupid thing, like 'harrumph now, ask later, embarrassed in the end' kind of stupid; (2) don't forget to praise the Lord when your witness of the aforementioned stupidity was just Frank Perconte.

I followed the Two Stooges to the house where their billeted which was also occupied by Joe, Davey, Eugene and Babe. When we arrived, the boys were already showered and they gathered in the living room.

"Becca…oh thank God…would you mind to cook us breakfast?" Joe asked.

"Why? Because I'm the only woman here?"

"Yeah…that…and because I don't want to get another food poisoning." He glared at Babe.

"That was one time!" Babe squeaked.

"Only Babe can make one squad got food poisoning because of simple omelet." George snickered.

"Hmh…yeah…that made me runs out my supply of antibiotics and rehydration solution." Gene said flatly without stopping stuffing his medicine bag with supplies.

"Et tu, Brute?" Babe said, throwing a 'you betrayed me' glare at Gene. Gene shrugged.

I chuckled "All right…all right…I'll cook. Babe, you can help me. I'll teach you how to make a proper and salmonella-free omelet."

Thirty minutes and obscene amount of omelets later, we walked out the house to meet the other Easy men in the town square, except for Frank who will guard the OP with O'Keefe, in which he looked not so peachy about it.

"Why do I have to guard it with O'Brian?" he whined.

"It's O'Keefe." I corrected.

"I don't fucking care. It's like babysitting." He snapped and stomped off to O'Keefe's billet.

"Is he alright?" I asked worriedly to George when Frank was out of earshot. "He looked just fine this morning. He even managed to properly insult you."

"He's fine. He only missed home like the rest of us. And for your information, I only let him to insult me because my brain wasn't wake enough. That's what happened if you woke up in ass o'clock in the morning and didn't have time for coffee before stealing some eggs for these blockheads." George ranted

George got a collective smack on his head from the boys for that.

"What are you guys gonna do today?" I asked the boys.

Gene answered "I'll be in the aid station. Babe and Web got some patrol to do. Joe and George will…honestly…I don't have any idea about what they're doing most of days…they always find some crazy things to do."

"Hey, Doc! That 'they' are right over here." Joe protested. "And I assure you, George and I will not cause any disturbances even though we're the conquering hero. We're not nefarious like the Japs."

"I beg to differ." I mumbled but Davey blurted "Wow…Joe…you got some SAT words."

"I fucking know fancy words, college boy!" Joe spat.

The other boys glared at Davey who's biting his thumb nail in embarrassment. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose "Oh..Davey"

"Even though it's very entertaining to witness another epic case of foot-in-mouth from you, Web….I have important news for you guys. We saw Captain Nixon this morning. Still in his harness. Right, Princess?" George said.

I smiled thankfully to George for another deflection from Davey's inability to hold his mouth and then said "Yeah…but he looked upset. Maybe the jump was not success? One thing that I know, Colonel Sink demoted him to battalion because of his drinking problem. Major Winters planned to tell him about this after the jump. But apparently Captain Nixon will find out sooner than later."

"Well that won't help his drinking problem." Gene said.

We nodded our agreement. Captain Nixon's drinking problem was another Easy Company's legend, even though he always performed his job effectively.

A gruff voice startled us from behind "Gossiping again, Gents? And Becca?"

"Jesus, Captain!" George said. "Could you not sneak around like that?"

"Where's the fun of that?" Captain Speirs smirked. In which the boys, except George of course, cowered in fear, because Captain Speirs' smirk was downright creepy.

"We're not gossiping, Sir. I just informed the boys that we saw Captain Nixon this morning, still in his harness and that the Colonel just demoted him to battalion." I explained.

"Hmm...yeah. I saw him too. His jeep was almost hit me. He's lucky my silver tray was not dented or else…" He said.

The boys and I exchanged glances. Not really sure the relation between nearly hit by a jeep, a dented silver tray and a very possible bodily harm threat.

"Anyway" the Captain continued. "Who helped Janovec hooked up with a German girl?"

From Davey's red face, I think the Captain found the answer.

"Next time if a soldier asked you as a translator for a hook up, make sure said horny soldier do his dirty thing after his guard duty. Understand?"

 _Aha ha…yeah right…'guard duty' for the Captain's 'discovered-shiny-things of the day', most likely._

Davey nodded frantically.

"Good. Now excuse me, Gentlemen…and Becca… I have to burn the image of Janovec's dingaling from my brain. That moment was definitely not the highlight of my day." He said flatly.

And with that, the Captain left us with a disturbing mental image of Janovec's Mr. Happy in action. We all cringed in unison.

"Our Captain is a sadist." Babe mumbled.

We nodded solemnly.

* * *

 _Le Tour d'Allemagne_ was proofed to be a first-class tour in every way (paratrooperly speaking, of course) for Easy Company. Our trip through Germany was more a grand tour than a fighting maneuver. We're in a reserve position, never threatened. Comfortable homes each night, great food and wine, free to take almost whatever we wanted, being driven along an autobahn reserved for us, riding at a leisurely pace on big rubber tires, with wondrous sights to see: the dramatic Alps on one side and the dramatic disintegration of what had been the most feared army in the world on the other.

Yes. The Germans began to retreating. En masse. It felt like a victory, but somehow…it felt….hollow. It's felt like our accomplishment of defeating Nazi was shadowed by the great loss of men we've endured since the beginning of the war until now. The cost (physically and psychologically) has been so great, that most of us felt like there was no way to back away from all that happened to us. We're sure that we'd be haunted with this war for the rest of our live. Some of the men started to question whether all of this was worth it.

And actually, we're afraid to adjust our live post-war. Believe me…It's more difficult to transition from being ready to war to being ready for peace. Especially, when we're still in the place where we are at war. In the meantime, so many things had changed in home front. In America, things were already looking like peacetime and not all people know the price paid by soldiers in terror, agony and bloodshed. Exhibit A: Captain Nixon's wife's letter that said she's divorcing him, and she's taking everything, including the kid and the dog. After all the terrors of war, near death experience with the 17th Division and his demotion to battalion, the letter was his breaking point. He snapped. He's getting more bitter and cynical (and more indulged in Vat 69); even Major Winter's pep talk didn't help.

Even so, the men started to talk about what they would do after the war. Joe with his plan to looking for a balloon-chested Jewish girl who's willing enough ("or stupid enough?" George corrected that followed with he's receiving a healthy smack on his head from the offended Jew) to give him some little Liebgotts, Davey and his plan to continue college and write a book about his experience as infantry soldier ("Do you think anybody will read your book, college boy?" "I hope so, Joe" "Any backup plan?" "I don't know. Maybe…I'll write a book about shark?" "Who the fuck will read a book about shark?!" "I hate you, Joe" "Ditto, Web"), and George with his plan (with my encouragement) to become a maintenance consultant ("But I truly want to be a clown, Princess. Why I can't be a clown?" "You'll spook the children to death, George" "Thanks for the loving support, honey" "Anytime, Frog" "That's sarcasm" "I'm aware").

I also noticed that Davey grew more and more resentful with the Germans. Every time we passed on retreating German soldiers, he would snap and ranted "If it's not because of your silly-mustached, overly-compensating so-called Führer, I would have finished my education right now!", or something in line with that. Joe and he were sometimes bonded by their mutual hatred to the Germans, but then arguing again when they're discussing about the rumors of German's cruelty. Joe believed the rumors wholeheartedly, while Davey still thought that it's just propaganda that was common in both waring side.

Until finally, in a forest near the city of Kaufering in Landsberg, we saw the gruesome evidence with our own eyes.

* * *

"They are my people, Becca." Joe sobbed in front of me, later that day. "My people. If my parent didn't leave Austria, I would be one of them."

Davey and George sat beside him. Davey said gravely "The rumors apparently right. You won't believe if you're not seeing them for yourself, Becca. The Colonel was right not to bring you there. They're beyond miserable. The Krauts had taken these people from their homes and sentenced them to slave work. Just because they're Jews or Poles or Gypsies or not conform to Hitler's perfect-human-being checklist. Babies and old women, innocent people condemned to live in barracks behind barbed wire, to slave twelve hours a day, to be stamped with numbers on their hands like cattle, to eat moldy potatoes, and black bread. The Third Reich means 'Work till you died' for these people. Nazi had deliberately enslaved the populace of Europe. The German people were guilty, every one of them."

"And I have to tell them that we have to lock them all back up in the camp." Joe said brokenly.

My throat was dry. I couldn't keep my tears anymore.

"It's for their best, Joe." George said soothingly "We have to make them concentrated for rehabilitation. Doc said that to me."

Gene himself hasn't back from the camp. He refused to take rest and concentrated to help Doctor Kent, the regimental surgeon, as much as he can.

"How do you know our method of rehab will succeed?" Joe asked weakly "We're not prepared for these."

"Have faith." Web said.

Joe scoffed. "Kind of difficult right now, college boy."

"I understand. Only time will show whether this plan would ultimately successful or not. If it does, the prisoners will tell their stories and live their lives as reminders of all that we must not forget." Web said assuredly.

"The Colonel told me" I added "That both Americans and Russians found camps like this all over the place. The Russians even liberated one a lot worse."

"Worse?" George frowned.

"Ten times bigger, with execution chambers and ovens to burn the…the bodies."

"Fuck…" the boys muttered in disbelief. I threw up myself when I first heard it.

"How come the locals didn't do anything? Didn't they ever smell the fucking stench?" Web said in disgust.

George scoffed "The locals said we're exaggerating. They claim they never even knew the camp existed. Like hell, they don't! How the fuck they can explain that the camp guard left this morning after they burned some of the huts with the prisoners still fucking alive in them and killed as many prisoners as their fucking ammo allowed before locked the gates and left the prisoners to death. Someone in the town must have told the guards we're coming."

"General Taylor declared martial law…about two hours ago. Every able-bodied German in town aged 14 to 80 to start burying the bodies. They'll start tomorrow." I explained

George nodded "Serves them right. And finally General Taylor made a sensible order."

"You guys should take some rest. We head out to Thalem tomorrow, at 1200 hours." I hugged Joe and kiss him on the cheek "They will be alright, Joe. We've done anything we could for them. Have faith, okay?"

Joe nodded and then headed to his room with Davey.

"I'll escort you to your billet, Becca." George said and led me outside.

Once we're outside, he said "I still can't believe the Nazis could do this to fellow human beings. This…this is genocide, Becca…with execution chambers and ovens like you've said."

I nodded gravely "Yeah…Concentration camp was not a new concept in war, actually. We do have a concentration camp for the Japanese in America after the Pearl Harbor. But these camps? These camps were not just concentration camp. They were extermination camps. It's like the Nazis have created a nearly mechanistic attempt to eradicate 'racially undesirable elements' of their society from the face of the world. They did it in clockwork precision."

George shook his head in disbelief "And to think that the Nazis came from the same society that produced composers like Mozart and Beethoven. It just didn't make sense how they can be so evil."

"There's a phrase in German. _Lebensunwertes Leben_. It means: life unworthy of life. It's a Nazi designation for people who had no right to live. Those individuals were targeted to be euthanized. When it first socialized in 1938, The Nazi targeted people with serious medical problems, because they think this disabled people will costs the community during his or her lifetime. But apparently…it grew in extent and scope to those considered grossly inferior according to the racial policy of Nazi Germany." I explained.

"Jesus…It's like they're playing god. You should write about this for your thesis when you're back to Harvard, Becca. And then publish it so the world will now what happened here."

"Yeah…I think I will, George."

"You'll be the best historian ever."

I smiled "Thank you." And I curled my hand on his.

We walked together in silence before he talked again. "I met this kid...in the camp. His name is Muchik. He's possibly the youngest prisoner there. He's so thin but relatively healthy compared with the other prisoners. It's because his father gave the kid his rations…until the father died, just yesterday. His mother and sister were in women's camp and most likely have died months ago. I smuggled him out of camp. Doc helped me and gave me instructions about his food and medication intake. He's resting in my room right now with Babe and Frank. I lent him my spare uniform and I managed to steal a pair of boots. I need your help, Becca. I need extra uniforms for him so I can bring him along with Easy."

"Are you sure, George? What if Captain Speirs know? There are strict orders that no Displaced Persons were to be taken along."

"I've talked to him. He's fine with it as long as I'll be responsible for the kid. I can be persuasive, you know."

"You mean you bribe him with something shiny."

George grinned and scratched the back of his head "Aha ha…yeah…that too. But he even promised to talk about this with Major Winters. I didn't ask him for that. He said that Muchik can be our errand boy. You know…doing chores and the likes. And I will be Muchik's…um… adoptive father? That's what he said."

I smiled at him. Captain Speirs and George Luz's heart were in the right place. "I'll do everything I can to help Muchik. I'll talk to the Colonel too."

He beamed and kissed my cheek "Thank you, Becca. I know I love you for the right reason."

"Yeah…I got the brain, the beauty and a big heart. But I don't know I should feel glad or sorry for Muchik to have you as his adoptive father" I teased.

He winked. "Don't worry, Princess. I'll teach him the fundamentals of army profanity as we ride along."

* * *

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	21. Chapter 21 - George

Hi All,

Very very sorry for the late update. Work has been very busy lately.

As always, thank you for your messages, reviews, new readers and new followers. *big hug for you ^_^*

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

There are some German dialogue on this chapter. I relied heavily on Google Translate. So if you feel like I'm butchering the laguange, please notify me and I will correct them.

* * *

"Are you sure you're not impregnated an unsuspecting Jewish girl? Because that kid is as evil as you. He's definitely mini-Luz." Captain Speirs asked as a way of greeting one day.

 _Ah…shit!_ "Er…what did Muchik do this time?"

"I ordered him to polish my boots and he performed above and beyond by tied them all in intricate knots and somehow hang them on the ceiling fan." _How. The actual. Fuck?_ "I spent thirty minutes to untie them all. Very convenience, since I was awaited by Major Winters and Colonel Sink to discuss our next objective."

I barely hold the urge to bang my head on the desk. That kid's a fucking menace.

"I'm really sorry, Sir. I'll talk to him." And limit his chocolate intake. _No more chocolate after dinner, kiddo!_ Dammit, was this how it feels to be a parent with a delinquent as kid? How on earth my Mom survived raising me? And my NINE brothers and sisters?

 _Oh I missed them. I missed my Mom. I missed her caldo verde…feijoada…tripe…and that delicious Pastel de nata that she made special for my birthday…and…_

"No worries." Speirs said. _Oh right…Speirs still here._ _Pay attention, Brain. Juvenile delinquent, now. Drooling on imaginary food, later._ "I used to your antics anyway." _What the hell that supposed to mean?_ "I ordered him to peel ten sacks of potatoes in the kitchen as punishment." He smirked evilly.

Ten? "Well…that's…." I wanted to say 'overkill, mate!' but…

"Appropriate." He supplied. "We need to give him something to burn that excess of energy."

That's very thoughtful of him...but still… _ten_ sacks of potatoes? "Agree, Sir. I just hope he's not too exhausted for Becca's lecture today."

Becca has scheduled English lesson and other basic knowledge every evening because Muchik has been deprived from education for almost three years in the concentration camp. And Muchik was a smart kid. His parents were teacher; his father taught Science and understands a little bit English and his mother taught math.

Speirs snorted "That kid? Tired? He always bouncing from the moment he woke up until he passed out like he ate fucking fireworks for breakfast." _Well…true._ Speirs continued, more seriously this time "Another thing. You and Becca must think about his future. We cannot bring him to the States. Colonel Sink had tried his best, but we already stretched direct order by bringing Muchik along. And no, George…we cannot smuggle him in our footlocker… or in our duffle bag. I've think about that."

I felt something in my chest deflated. Even though I know this kid for only a couple of weeks, I care about him deeply. Easy also accept him as their little brother. Joe said that Muchik was our mascot. Our lucky charm. Muchik even able to bring Malark's hair red again.

Speirs sighed "As you know from Captain Nixon, we'll be headed to Bavaria and the Alps shortly. We're going to…um….I don't know if I spell it right. These German words got too many consonant… Berch…Berchtesgaden. It was the presumed HQ for Nazi's last stand and the guerrilla war against the Allies, despite the big man already dead. Therefore, I suggest you and Becca find a good foster parent for him here in Germany, because apparently, Austrians were more sympathetic to Nazi than the Germans. Some of the most prominent Nazis were native Austrians, even Hitler is…was Austrian. "

I nodded weakly.

"I'm really sorry George." He patted my shoulder before he left me. Captain Speirs, for all his bluster and badass reputation, cared for his men.

In the evening, I picked up Muchik from the kitchen and took him to Becca's billet for his evening lesson. Muchik's greeting of "Papa George!" definitely did something warm and aching at the same time in my chest. How the hell I explained to him that I couldn't bring him to the State?

"Muchik…um…I have to tell you something."

"About Captain Speirs?" he grinned.

I snorted "That too actually…I gotta admit you got balls, kid." I shuffled his hair.

"Yes! I have ball. Me and Papa play fußball…um…football…in the field. But before Nazi."

I chuckled. "Americans called it soccer. But no, Muchik…Not that kind of ball. It's an expression. Got balls means you're brave. Not all people dare to prank Captain Speirs. Some people are scared at him."

"Oh…Okay. Captain Speirs is not scary. His..um…gesicht?" he gestured his face.

"Face?"

"Yes…face…his face is funny when mad."

I smiled "Just you and I who think like that, buddy. Why do you think I'm the only one who survived this long becoming his runner? I'm practically immune from his glare of death."

Muchik grinned cheekily. He looked so happy.

 _Dammit…I fucking hate to deliver bad news._

I scratched my head and continued. "But…yeah…um…that's not I want to talk about with you."

Muchik sobered and lowered his gaze sadly "I can't go to America."

It's a statement. Not a question.

He already knew.

 _Shit… I just know this kid for a few weeks._ _But_ _why did this hurt so much?_ "I'm sorry, Muchik. We did everything we can. Even the Colonel helped."

"I know, Papa." He said dejectedly. "I hear the Colonel. I… verstehen… understand…a little." _Do not cry in front of him, George! It's already hard enough for him._

"I'll find you a nice family, buddy. I promise."

"Ja…I believe. You saved me. Your friends…nice to me. Even Captain Speirs. I will miss them a lot." He smiled sadly. "You will…schreiben…um…write for me, yes? From America?"

"Of course. I'll give you my address. You'll always be my kiddo." I ruffled his hair again.

"And you be my second Papa. Who love me like my real Papa…may he rest in peace with Mama and Shosanna."

I blinked several times. I took several shaky breaths before able to say "Thank you, Muchik."

"Nein, Papa... Danke."

* * *

We found a nice family for Muchik in a small village on our way to Berchtesgaden. The Maiers welcomed Muchik with open arms. They lost their only son to the Gestapo's firing squad when he was caught involved in the resistance movement.

The farewell was very difficult. Muchik hugged every single Easy men and I swear to God that every one of them got tears on their eyes. Even Joe I-am-the-most-manly-man-in-this-goddamn-Company Liebgott.

"They gonna pay for this, kid. They gonna pay for what they did to our people. I'll kill every fucking one of them." Joe said fiercely while he hugged Muchik. I could see Web frowned at this, but he wisely held his tongue.

Muchik shook his head. "Uncle Joe, Papa said…Rache ist nicht gut. Keine dummheiten, bitte."

"Ich kann Ihnen nicht versprechen" he said bitterly and stormed off to our truck.

Muchik sighed and said pleadingly to Web "Uncle David… Bitte lassen Sie ihn nicht Dummheiten."

Web kissed Muchik's temple. "ich werde mein Bestes geben." And then followed Joe.

I swipe my sweaty hand before hugged Muchik "Take care of yourself, okay Buddy?" Becca's crying quietly beside me.

Muchik nodded sadly "I will, Papa. You too."

Becca and I hugged Muchik for the last time. Becca managed a shaky 'we love you, Muchik. Take care.' before ran back to her jeep with Colonel Sink. The Colonel patted her back and then nodded at me and Muchik.

"I gotta go. Frau Maier has my address. Write to me, okay?"

Muchik nodded.

And I never forget his sad face for the rest of my life.

* * *

Berchtesgaden, our objective, was a magnet for the troops of all the armies in southern Germany, Austria, and northern Italy. The small town was Valhalla for the Nazi gods, lords, and masters. Hitler had a home there and a mountain-top stone retreat, 8,000 feet high, called the Aldershorst or the Eagle's Nest ( _pretentious name, isn't it?_ ). Kind of weird since that man was famously known afraid of heights. Rumor has it, that the walls of the elevator into the Aldershorst were plated in gold leaf.

We, especially a certain Captain that always fascinated in shiny things, were super ecstatic to reach Berchtesgaden before the other armies because, despite it's the symbolic home of Hitler's mad lust for power, it also the best looting possibilities in Europe. It was to the Berchtesgaden area that much of the loot collected by the Nazis from all over Europe had come. It was bursting with booze, jewelry, fabulous cars.

And Easy Company got there first. Accommodations were the first order of business. Major Winters and Lieutenant Welsh went to the Berchtesgaden Hof, the finest hotel in the town. Obviously, the brass would stay there. Captain Speirs ordered me to picked one of the homes of Nazi officials, perched on the hillside climbing the valley out of Berchtesgaden, for Easy company HQ.

Apparently, Berchtesgadener ( _was that what you called people who stay at Berchtesgaden?_ ) who owned the house had a death wish. He refused. Fucking. Refused.

Major Winters heard this and went to the front door himself, knocked and when a woman answered (the mustached man who refused earlier suddenly disappeared), he announced, "We are moving in. Now!"

"Wow…that's some badass move, Sir." I said.

The Major smiled bitterly "We had been living in foxholes in Normandy, we had been in the mud at Holland, the snow in Bastogne. And we'd seen that concentration camp. These people were the reason for all this suffering. I had no sympathy for their problem. And I didn't owe them any goddamn explanation."

Oh…wow…Major Winters cursed. He's seriously pissed. Captain Nixon somehow looked proud. He had this 'My baby is now able to cursed and shit!' kind of look.

The enlisted men got superb accommodation too. We gladly took over the SS barracks, an Alpine-style apartment house block that was the latest thing in modern design, plumbing, and interior decoration (AND TOILET PAPER!). Berchtesgaden was a soldier's heaven.

With accommodation taken care of, looting and shenanigans ensues.

Exhibit A: Captain Speirs became the happiest man alive. His eyes twinkled as shiny as silverwares and art works he packed. He even smiled (the men even more scared of his smile, to be honest) and his creepiness level reduced a little.

Exhibit B: Talbert got one of Hitler's staff cars, a Mercedes with bulletproof doors and windows. He did some experimenting, as follow:

1\. Shooting all the windows with his M-1s and various ammo. Result: the windows were bulletproof, but if you used armor-piercing ammo, it would get the job done.

2\. Drained the water from the radiator, to see if it could run without it. Result: It could run for 100 meters before the engine burned.

3\. Test the car if it could survive a 30-meter crash. Result: it become a wreck after we pushed it over a cliff.

Talbert then report the results of this experiment to Winters. The Major solemnly thanked him for his important research, agreeing that one never knew when this kind of information would come in handy. We felt like a goddamn scientist.

Exhibit C: We dressed Mercier in Krauts officer uniform (complete with a monocle) and 'hand over' him to Speirs. The Captain, without even looking up, grunted a half-assed "shoot him." Needless to say, nobody wanted the uniform for souvenir because it's rank of Mercier's piss.

Conclusion: Everybody's happy.

And then the most amazing news arrived.

German army's surrendered.

Officially. Surrendered.

The war in Europe finally over.

Every one yelled "Happy VE day!"

To mark the day, Major Winters ordered each company to take a truckload of booze from a certain cellar. The sight inside said cellar can make the manliest man cried in joy. It contained 10,000 bottles of fine liquor, wine, and champagne.

Web, a self-declared connoisseur ( _emphasize on self-declared_ ), grabbed a bottle and winced in distaste "This champagne is new and mediocre." He said. "There's no Napoleon brandy and the champagne had been bottled in the late 1930s. I'm very disappointed in Hitler."

Joe, ever compliant to the procedure of their friendship, snapped "Booze is booze, college boy. I don't fucking care if it's new or not."

Web mumbled "You're the most tasteless human being I've been unfortunate enough to encounter."

Joe flipped him off while chugging a champagne straight from the bottle.

Becca giggled and whispered at me "Captain Nixon had picked out five truckloads for himself and the other officers."

I chuckled. "The Yale man pulled his rank on the Harvard boy."

* * *

Victory in Europe didn't mean we can get home right away. We need 85 points to get home but despite we risked our ass in every fucking front line since D-Day, some of us still didn't have enough points. Hence, we found ourselves reluctantly dragging our asses from our comfy accommodation in Berchtesgaden to Zell am See. Our job there was to maintain order, to gather in all German soldiers, disarm them, and ships them off to P.O.W. camps in Munich.

I had to admit that Austria was fucking beautiful. We thought Berchtesgaden was fairy-tale land with its snow-capped mountains, the dark green woods, and superb accommodation. But when we arrived at Zell am See…Hoooooly shitballs…that place was heaven! It's beyond beautiful.

But apparently, death didn't stop following us.

Jannovec died because of a stupid road accident. Web's very upset because the accident was happened in front of him.

Shifty got an accident on his way home. He survived but had to spend the next few months in a series of hospitals and he lost all his loot and salary.

Chuck nearly died when he was shot in the head by a drunk replacement.

And we're most likely will be redeployed to the Pacific Theatre. From what we saw in the newsreel, it's going to be brutal.

It seems like we trapped in some kind of Purgatory.

It's war, but it's not war.

There're no battles, but there's still too much death.

* * *

The serenity of Zell am See was ruined when one morning I heard Joe's shouting at Web. I should have been got used to hear Joe and Web bickering. But this time, Joe sounded very angry while Web sounded….desperate (?) to calm him.

"But he's still human, Joe. According to Geneva Con-"

"I don't give a FLYING FUCK about the Geneva Convention, college boy! Did they follow the Geneva Convention when they build those camps?! Did they follow the FUCKING Geneva Convention when they massacred MY PEOPLE?! IT'S MY PEOPLE THEY BURNED IN THOSE FUCKING OVENS, WEB! For all I know, Captain Speirs ordered me. I killed the man. End of fucking story! Can you give it a rest?!"

"Muchik asked you to not do anything stupid, Joe. You can get court-martialed."

"Muchik is a kid. He's still fucking naïve! I avenged him. That Nazi son of a bitch already dead. Technically, Skinny shot him, even though I want to kill that bastard myself. So why the fuck you keep nagging me?!"

When I heard Muchik's name, I know I had to say something. "Guys…What happened here?"

"Tell this pompous college boy to stay the fuck away from me." And with that, Joe stormed off the apartment.

I gaped at his angry figure "What the hell is going on, Web?"

Web sighed "Joe said Speirs ordered him to kill a suspected German commander of a slave camp. Skinny and I accompany him to a farm and found the Nazi. Joe interrogated him. He then drew his pistol and shot the Nazi twice. The Nazi turned and ran up the hill. Joe's pistol jammed so Skinny shot the Nazi to death."

"Jesus…"

"It became personal, George. It's not just an order for him."

"Give him time, Web…He'll come around."

Web sighed "I failed Muchik."

* * *

To prepare us to the Pacific, Major Winters held daily close-order drills. But still…time felt like dragging when your daily activities were just guard duty, drill, and some occasional sport competition. We just want to go home. So consequently, we found our outlets in four other ways: as tourists in the Alps, hunting, drinking, and chasing women. Well…I did the first three, because I didn't have a death wish. Becca can get super scary when she got jealous (see. The Brunhilda Incident).

Every night, if I was not in guard duty, I took Becca for a walk along the edge of Zeller See. It's a breathtakingly beautiful lake and at night, the light from the town looked like stars.

"Are you okay you're not with your friends right now, George?"

"It's fine, Princess. After what happened with Chuck, I don't want to be near drunk people with access to weapons."

"Oh God…yeah…That was scary. Thank God Captain Speirs found that surgeon."

"Yeah….contrary to popular believes, Speirs truly cares about his men. That badass personality is just a façade."

"Mmm hmmm" She agreed.

We walked in silence for a while before she started again "Colonel Sink will throw another party this Friday. Everyone's invited. Will you come as my date?"

"Is this a feminist thing? Asking a man for a date?" Although I didn't mind at all she asked me. We're past debating about gender role.

She chuckled "It's a me thing. I really want you to be my date for that party. Consider it to replace our failed date in Mourmellon. And I already have the dress, you know. And I met this nice local girl who will help me about the hair and make-up."

"Aaaww….You still a woman after all." I ruffled her hair.

"You ass!"

"Rebecca Jones!" I mocked gasp. "That's very improper of you."

"I don't need to be proper" She laughed and slapped my hand. "I'm not a lady."

* * *

But Hoooly God…She's much muuuch more beautiful than any blue blooded female I've ever known. Not that I know a lot of blue blooded female. I just saw their pictures in newspaper or newsreel, anyway.

But Becca in party dress and make up was simply…stunning. The make-up was…subtle ( _was that the appropriate term?_ ) so she didn't look like she's wearing a mask. The local girl who did the make-up seems know that Becca didn't need a lot of those things to look beautiful. Her hair was loose in soft curls and pinned with simple hairpin.

And the dress….

"I'm a very lucky guy." I huffed.

She beamed and mocked curtsy. "Well…Thank you, Sir. You looked debonair as well."

 _Do not do the victory dance, George!_

"Shall we, Princess?" I offered my hand.

 _Thank you for being cooperative, Brain._

She kissed my cheek before she accepted it.

I may or may not did the victory dance.

She just giggled.

And when the Colonel said "everyone's invited", it's literally means "everyone's invited". Even General fucking Taylor (and to our intense dislike, his aide, Lt. Dike the Troglodyte) came. The Officers loosen up a little, and in some cases, loosen up a lot. Colonel Strayer got drunk and got into a fistfight with a general. Lieutenant Foley and Welsh siphoned most of the gas from General fucking Taylor's Mercedes. We learned in the next morning that the car had run out of gas on its way back to Berchtesgaden in the middle of the night. General fucking Taylor and Dike the Troglodyte had to sit there for hours while the driver searched for a jerrican. Colonel Sink gave us hell but it was soooo worth it.

So in conclusion, the party was a bash.

Becca and I decided to walk in the garden since the ballroom started to feel suffocating. In the middle of the garden, we saw people waiting in turn to talk to Major Winters. The Major just finished talking with Malark and now was talking to Lipton.

Malark has returned to his cheerful self. A little subdued, yes, but still it's better than when in Bastogne and Haguenau.

"Hey, George! Oh…you look very lovely, Becca!" and he kissed Becca's cheeks.

"Thank you, Malark." She smiled beautifully.

I couldn't help to wrap my hand around her waist somewhat possessively.

"There…there, George. Keep your hand above the ass, okay." The fucking Mick teased.

"I'm a gentleman, Malark."

He scoffed.

 _The asshole_.

I continued "You looked happy, by the way. Got some good news from our esteemed Major."

He beamed "Yeah…very good news actually. I've been appointed as advisor for an airborne exhibition in Paris. In PARIS, George! And I get to choose the hotel I will be staying."

"That's very good, Malark. Congratulations!" Becca said.

"Yeah, buddy! Congratulations!" I raised my champagne glass for salute. Becca and Malark followed.

"I always wanted to go to Paris. Remember when we're in Mourmellon, before we're sent to Bastogne?" Malark smiled sadly. "I just wish Skip and Alex could come with me to Paris."

"Oh, Malark…" Becca sighed and hugged him. "They will be happy for you."

"I hope so, Becca." He said.

"So when will you leaving?" I asked.

"Maybe in a couple of days. The Major said that I won't back here anytime soon." He said.

"We should throw a farewell party for you, then." I said.

Lipton walked towards us and said "I heard about you, Malark. Congratulations."

"Thanks, Lip. And how about you?"

"I've been reassign to Battalion Headquarters."

"Because that shitty theory that the men won't respect you as they would another officer?" I said.

Lipton chuckled "Yeah...that."

"Army and their logic. But no worries, Lip. You're still our bestest Mama Bear we've ever had. We'll love you forever and ever, Mommy." I grinned.

"Wiseass" he said fondly. "Oh…by the way, do you see Liebgott?"

"Um…no…why?"

"I might need a translator for tomorrow. I have to soothe a German general who got pissed because he had to surrender to a certain Private Heffron from Philly."

We all laughed at that.

"Okay, I'll tell Joe about this. He won't miss this chance."

"Good…Enjoy the evening, Gents…Becca." He nodded and then left us to have conversation to another officer.

* * *

"George! George! Wake up, shithead!"

"Fuck you, Joe! It's my day off!"

"Winter just pulled his rank! On Sobel!"

Well…that worth of waking up early.

"Boys!" I shouted. Because good friend always share this kind of news. "Wake up, you lazy asses! Joe got news!"

Web, Babe, Frank (still brushing his teeth) and Doc gathered around and payed attention to Joe.

"Tell me exactly what happened, Joe. Don't leave anything out." I said.

"You sound like a gossiping housewife." Frank said. I didn't dignify him by responded to that. I just slapped his head. He swallowed his toothpaste. Good for him.

"So as you know," Joe started, "Lipton asked me to translate for this German general surrender ceremony or some shit. Who apparently can speak English fluently with Lipton, the asshole."

Babe cut in "That bastard! He said yesterday that he could speak a little English and only want to speak with officer! Just wait until I spread his 500 porno pictures I found in his briefcase!"

I am pretty sure there're crickets chirping in the silence afterward. Actual. Crickets.

Joe cleared his throat and continued "Ah...yeah…I call dibs on that, by the way. Um...where were we? Oh…yeah…so while Lipton and I waiting for the general to prepare himself, Major Winters and Captain Nixon came with the jeep to witness the surrender….and then….came Captain Sobel. He just walked and acted like he didn't see Major Winters."

"Oh my God…he did not." Web gasped.

 _Now_ that _sounded like a gossiping housewife._

Joe nodded fiercely "I know! Complete shithead! But Winters called Sobel…God, he's too kind...And that fucking asshole still didn't salute and just fucking nod to Winters! Can you imagine?! Just fucking nod and a very lame 'Major Winters'!"

"And what did Major Winters do?" Babe asked eagerly. His body leaned forward on the edge of his seat with anticipation.

Joe smirked "This is the best part…Winters said, 'Captain Sobel. We salute the rank, not the man.' And that asshole grudgingly salute."

We all guffawed at that.

"Holy shit! And then what?" asked Frank.

"Sobel walked away with the biggest pout I've ever seen! Winters then looked at Nixon, and Nixon just shook his head and smirk like he's a proud Mama or some shit."

We laughed out loud again.

"Lessons learnt, Gents." I said. "Karma's a bitch."

The boys nodded in unison "Amen"

* * *

Don't forget to leave your review ^_^

German Translation:

Rache ist nicht gut. Keine dummheiten, bitte. - Revenge is not good. Don't do anything stupid, please

Ich kann Ihnen nicht versprechen - I can not promise you

Uncle David… Bitte lassen Sie ihn nicht Dummheiten. - Uncle David ... Please don't let him do anything stupid.

ich werde mein Bestes geben. - I will do my best.


	22. Chapter 22 - Becca

Hi All,

As always, thank you for your messages, reviews, new readers and new followers. *big hug for you ^_^*

As usual, this chapter is un-beta-ed and since English is not my first language, if you see any mistakes, please poke. I'll really appreciate it.

* * *

"Becca…got a minute?"

I looked up from my type writer and saw Joe Liebgott leaning at the door. "Sure, Joe. Have a seat. Let me finish this report, okay? The Colonel wants the report about General Tolsdorf's surrender this morning."

Joe nodded and took a seat in front of me "Yeah…I was there. Lip asked me to translate. Even though apparently that peacocking General could speak English fluently."

I finished my typing and separated the carbon copies into separated folders "So…what do you want to talk about?"

"It's about Tolsdorf's speech. I…um…"

I smiled "Major Winters told me about his speech. It's quite moving, wasn't it?"

He shrugged "More or less. I still hate them to the core, Bec. But…when I heard that speech, I realized that we had a lot in common. The brotherhood, the fucked up life in foxholes…they had it too."

"What they did is war crime, Joe. They will get trialed, I assure you. We'll make sure that this monstrosity won't happen again in the future. But…yeah…basically, they're soldiers who, like us, their job is to follow orders. What makes them different from us was that they're brainwashed enough so they're driven by intense hate or prejudice to follow those sick orders and forgetting their own humanity. For those who could separate what's right from wrong, were too afraid to refuse. I have to admit Hitler and Goebbels did a very good job in constructing Nazi propaganda strategies. They understand the psychology of the masses. They mixed traditional German values, the existing anti-Semitism, and socio-economic condition after the last Great War to a powerful mix of propaganda. They able to force their perspective and then legitimized the treatment to the Jewish people…As sick as it was, their strategy can be considered as a success."

Joe raised his eyebrow "Damn, girl…Are you sure you're taking History major not Psychology?"

I chuckled. "To fully understand an event in history, we have to see its historical context and also considering its psychological background."

"Jeez, Becca. You're much too smart for George."

I flicked a paperclip into his forehead. "Hey! Don't say that. George's smart, you know. He's good with machines. Even the Colonel said that. If he could go to college, I'm sure he'd be the brightest student."

Joe smirked "Love can make us blind. On the scale of 1 to 'I wrote Mrs. Rebecca Luz all over my diary and making kids with him as many as possible', how much do you love him?"

I vehemently refused to blush on that question. "Dumbass….I thought you want to talk about the Krauts."

"I already did. And you gave me that long-ass mix of History and Psychology lecture. My puny brain can't process that much. I bow in defeat." He winked.

"You're smart too Joe. And for your question…I don't care he's dropped out from high school. He did that to help his parents. It's just show me that he's a family man, Joe. I'm sure he won't let me down. I want…I want to grow old with him. Is that answering your question?"

"Well…that's…deep. But how about your family. Will they accept a man whose resumes are only a high school dropped-out, from Warwick, a lowly rank soldier and possibly damaged from war? George's my friend, Becca. I don't want him to get hurt either."

"I'm not expecting they will accept him right away. It's gonna be hard, for sure. But I know what I want. I know what I feel. I'll stand by George."

"Girl…remind me to not get in your way. I'm feeling sorry for your parent already." Joe grinned.

* * *

At the end of June, it's official that the 101st was to be redeployed to the Pacific sometime in August. General Taylor, Colonel Sink and Major Winters discharged and reassigned as many men as possible to other division so they didn't have to go to the Pacific.

The Colonel did all he can to reassign me too. I was planned to be reassigned as administrative staff in Military History Unit of the Adjutant's General Office in stateside. The AG Corps had to process nearly one-half million discharges in a month since the war in Europe has ended. And believe me, administrative tasks of millions of soldiers was a difficult mission.

In other words, the company was breaking up.

It's extremely upsetting.

Meanwhile, for the boys, close-order drill, calisthenics, road march, barracks inspection, military courtesy and discipline, dry run with the rifle, and firing on the range became the order of the day again.

I hardly met them. I missed them so much.

And afraid for them.

For George

The Pacific was brutal. The Japanese soldiers was more…sadist. I heard stories (and saw some gruesome pictures) about the captured and mutilated POW.

"Princess…it's my duty." George said one night in July, on a rare occasion we could meet in my billet.

"I don't want you to go to the Pacific. The war is different there."

"I know. There's no naked native girl feeding the flamingos with coconuts, for sure." He smiled sadly, as if remembering something. He sighed "But I don't have the privilege to choose, Becca. I'm just a grunt. My point wasn't enough to go home."

It's so hard not to cry.

"Becca…Princess…please…don't…I don't want to see you sad. Hey…you're warrior too, right? Like Athena and Boudicca. You understand our duty as soldier."

I do…I really do. I nodded sadly.

"When they will send you back to the state?" George asked after a while.

"Scheduled for flight in mid-August. Then go directly to Fort Jackson, South Carolina." I said.

"Do you know for how long?"

I shrugged "I don't know. Maybe until this war is over? Until the administrative works for all dispatched soldiers are finished perhaps. After that…I'll go back to Harvard. It's not like WACs had many options in the post-war world." I laughed bitterly. "the Army had no peacetime component for women."

"To be honest, I prefer you go back to Harvard than stay in the Army." George said "You're too smart for the Army, Becca. You can be a history teacher or researcher or maybe a Professor. You'll touch more people with your work."

I love him even more. I was really grateful that George was very supportive in my education and future career. Not all men at this time share the same vision. Most of them think that women should be stay at home, confined in the kitchen and bedroom.

"We'll talk about this when you come back from the Pacific Theatre, okay?" George looked like he wants to say something but I cut him "I know we can't make promises in war. But I know you'll do anything to come back to me."

"I will, Princess." George said, kissing my forehead.

"You still have the zippo I gave you? Don't you dare lose it, George." I asked

George nodded "I won't. You still have that chessboard?"

I nodded back.

"Then I'm looking forward for you to kick my ass in chess again." He wrapped his hand around my shoulder and then put my head in his shoulder. His other hand held my hand and his thumb make a circle in my wrist "Becca…if… if God willed…that I do come back to you…alive, that is…I…um…I want to meet your Dad."

I raised my head from his shoulder and frowned at him "My Dad?"

But my heart started to stutter in my chest.

Was this….was this what I think it was?

George smiled sheepishly "Yeah…I…um…I want to ask his permission…to…um…marry you. Is that okay?"

My reaction of that question probably the most unlady-like reaction ever. It involved squealing, sobbing, hyperventilating, turning into puddle of tears (and snot…eww...), and hugging George while chanting "Yes...yes...of course yes" over and over again. Yep…very much unlady-like.

"I know we're not officially engaged until I have your father blessing…but...I'm sorry I don't have anything for you right now, Becca. I don't want to give you Nazi jewelry for your engagement ring." George said. His face buried in my shoulder.

"It's…it's okay, George. I don't need their diamond. Oh God…I still can't believe this…you propose to me." I buried my face deeper in his chest, inhaled his scent as much as possible and kept it in my memory. It's allowed, godammit … We're engaged!

"Why you sound surprised I propose to you? It's me who supposed to surprised you accept it. A frog proposed a Princess and she accept. What's the odds?"

I pushed myself from his hug and nudge his chest with my finger "Don't you dare talk like that about yourself, George Luz. You're a fighter. You're smart. You're loyal. You're selfless. You won't let me down. You'll always make me laugh. You'll make me happy. I love you. And I know you love me. That's good enough for me to spend the rest of my life with you."

George's smile was warm "Thanks, Becca. Let's just hope your parents think the same."

"They'll see. I will make them see the real George Luz. My Jolly Old Saint Luz. My fiancé."

"Holy God" He sighed "I think I'll never get bored to hear that…I'm George Luz…Becca's fiancé."

And if we're kissing a little bit more passionately that night, it's nobody's business.

We're ENGAGED!

* * *

Paratroopers were gossiping like high school girls before Prom Night, as George always said. So not surprisingly, by the morning, the news of our engagement was known by the entire regiment. The Colonel congratulated us but not after gave George his 'intense eye contact heavy with judgement and threats of bodily-harm' that rivals Captain Speirs's Death Glare ™. George, to his credits, managed to survive the meeting with minimal psychological trauma, or so he said.

"I'll take that as practice before I meet your dad." George said, somewhat shakily after the meeting.

Joe offered his support by telling him a story about a father-in-law who killed his son-in-law and buried said son-in-law decimated body in five different states. It ended with Joe and George Fight Scene #153. Joe won the fight and Babe won the bet.

So July went by with the usual routines and, without we realized, it's already August. I heard hushed news from the high ups that the US government would take major action to end this war as soon as possible. I prayed it'd happen soon, so Easy wouldn't need to be sent to the Pacific.

One Tuesday morning, I headed to George's billet, bringing him breakfast. The boys had night exercise and they would need some extra protein other than Army-issued unidentified meat. As usual, George billeted with Frank, Joe, Davey, Babe and Eugene. They always ganged up like high school teens on road trip.

"Boys! You guys decent? I come bearing gift."

I heard flurries of activities behind the door and a muffled shout of "that's my last clean skivvies, blockhead!" that followed with a squeak of manly terror and a "Yeessh…if that's your clean one, I don't want to imagine the soiled one" before the door opened by Frank…while still brushing his teeth…as per usual.

"Morning, Frank. I brought Frankfurter and Sauerkraut."

"Bahzzat?" toothpaste spitting everywhere.

"I'm gonna assume you're asking 'what's that'. Frankfurter is a pork sausage. Sauerkraut is a…fermented cabbage."

Frank wrinkled his nose. "babage?" still with mouth full of toothpaste.

"Yes, Frank…cabbage. You guys need vitamin C. Just try it. You'll like it. Or you prefer got scurvy?"

"kay. Come on in then."

"That's very generous of you, Frank".

Frank just rolled his eyes.

Inside the room, George's in the middle of tinkering with some radio.

"Busy, Frog? I'm bringing breakfast. Where are Babe and Gene?"

"Nope. Just fix this radio for a nice old lady. Babe helped Gene looking for baseball bats and gloves for this afternoon game."

Right. Easy finally got a day off and the boys organized a baseball game in a makeshift diamond field. It's also to welcome Buck. He finished his rehab and wanted to meet the boys before he get back to the states.

I put the food on the table and then make a plate for George. I sat beside him, offering him a plate of frankfurter and sauerkraut. He nodded but still tinkering with his tool.

"Sorry, Princess…Just a sec….Aaannd…..done." He twisted a knob and the radio turned to live. He switched it off again and started to tidy up his tools.

"You're too good for him, Becca." Joe said from his bunk. He's reading some skin magazine shamelessly (or watching? Ogling?…because how many words were there in that kind of magazine that requires such intense concentration).

"Are you wearing your Eau de Asshole, Joe? You're just jealous. You only got pin up girls in those skin mags while I got the real one." George said. He then grabbed the plate from my hand and started to decimate the frankfurter and sauerkraut with gusto. He mumbled "Holy shit, this is delicious. Thanks, Princess."

"I have to admit these German skin mags are bolder than American mags." Joe said nonchalantly as if he's talking about something mundane. "The poses are quite good. The girls pretty. It's quite artsy, I think. General Tolsdorf had a good taste." He started to grab a plate and eat the frankfurter, but his eyes still glued on the magazine.

Davey sneered. "That's a very astute analysis, Joe."

"Did you or did you not bring one of these mags to the bathroom to do your business." Joe asked flatly.

Davey made a good rendition of overripe tomatoes. "I'm a healthy man with healthy urges." He snapped and stormed off the room.

George grinned "Dammit Joe. Do you really have to twist his skivvies in every opportunity?"

Joe shrugged "It's a sport. And look at that… more sauerkraut for me. I love sauerkraut."

George snickered "You're evil. Away with you, demon child! Go masturbate or something!" He mimicked swatting Joe with holy water.

"I already did today." Joe said, perfectly deadpanned. "Twice"

Frank snorted "Ah yeah…I forgot…you're Olympic-level masturbator. But still…do you fucking know the concept of too much information, shithead?!"

My stomach's hurt from laughing. "You guys are wicked." I managed.

George sighed dreamily "I had been called similar when I was a kid. Usually right before Dad grabbed me in the scruff and tossed me out of the house. Ah…memories."

His daydream was cut short when Eugene entered the room. He's holding a baseball bat, swinging it back and forth. "Liebgott," he said with his trademark clam voice. "Apologize to Webster or you'll out of my team for today's baseball game."

Joe sputtered "Not fair, Doc! And how do you know I'm the one who make him upset?"

Gene raised one eyebrow. "Fine. You're out. Web's in."

"But…but…"

And Gene ignored him in favor of walking away.

"Hah! You're gonna loose, buddy!" Frank snorted.

George offered his commiseration by patting Joe's shoulder. "There…there…here…eat your extra sauerkraut. At least you'll have a functional digestion system and thus, a great poop. Because nothing better than having a really good poop." George said solemnly, seemed not at all sorry for sharing his unwelcome pearl of wisdom.

Cue for Joe and George Fight Scene #154.

* * *

When Major Winters stopped the game and told us the news, no one believed it at first. We're gapping, brain still processing the news and looked at each other in disbelieve.

But the news was true.

On Tuesday, August 14 1945, 434 days after D-Day, President Truman received the surrender from the Japanese.

War's over.

We're going home.

Regardless of points, medals or wounds, each man in the 101st Airborne would be going home.

George would be going home.

* * *

The Colonel threw a celebration party that night, but he limited the alcohol to avoid incident like Chuck. Nobody complained. We're this close to home.

Captain Speirs's "Attention!" made everybody stop talking and The Colonel started his speech.

"Gents, it's been an honor to serve with you. You've been volunteered for an experimental unit and throw yourself headfirst in every single front line since D-Day. You have just made the change from the individualism of civilian life to the anonymity of mass military life. You have given up comfortable homes, highly paid positions, leisure. You have given the best years of your lives to the war. You have fulfilled your debt to democracy. Your country will be forever grateful for your service. I salute you." Then he lifted his glass and shout "Currahee!"

The boys shouted "Currahee!" and drank their beers. I could see their eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Then Major Winters took Colonel Sink's place. He took several deep breaths before he started to speak "Gents, for some of you, it's been three years since we first met in Toccoa. In those three years, we had seen more, endured more, and contributed more than most men can see, endure, or contribute in a lifetime. In those three years, there were times when we thought the Army was boring, unfeeling, and chicken and hated it. In those three years, we found combat to be ugliness, destruction, and death, and hated it. And in those three years, you have done anything, except letting down your buddies. We are trained killers, accustomed to carnage and quick, violent reactions. But we're also found in combat the closest brotherhood we ever knew. We found selflessness. We found we could love the other guy in our foxhole more than ourselves. Gentlemen, you are like a rock. Children of the Depression, fighters in the greatest war in history. And now, you will be the builders of the postwar world. It's been an honor to serve and fight with you."

I felt George's hand find my hand and hold it tight. I looked at his face and I could see his face was wet with tears like mine. He pressed his forehead to my hair and whispered "It's real, Princess. We're going home."

* * *

Don't forget to leave your review.

Next chapter will be the last chapter. Thanks for your support all this time ^_^


	23. Chapter 23 - What to Expect

The last chapter.

Un-beta-ed (as per usual...sorry)

Enjoy ^_^

* * *

 **...When You're Involved With Easy Company**

 **So You're a War Veteran Now**

God bless whoever comes up with the idea for the GI Bills. It offers low-cost mortgages, low-interest loans to start a business, cash payments of tuition and living expenses to attend university, high school or vocational education, and one year of unemployment compensation. Everything you need when you come home as a broken and mentally (and sometimes, physically) scarred man, looking for a job or pursuing higher education in order to become a normal and functioning human being again.

Women veterans, like Becca, benefited the most, in an era when most women were expected to get married and concentrate on family. Women who served in the war were all volunteers, and they were a selection of women who were the best in aptitude, skills and experience, regardless their background. The GI Bills provide these women veterans with tuition fees and living cost that would have been unavailable to many of them, since most of them were come from working-class families. They left their country to sacrifice the comfort of their home and when they returned, they enjoyed lots of new possibilities. All of a sudden, dreams became feasible.

As soon as she returned to the states, Becca has been assigned in the Adjutant's General Office in South Carolina for a month to help processing the administration of discharged soldiers from Europe and Pacific Theatres. After that, she was busy to reentering Harvard, using the GI Bill and her status as veteran to the fullest. George supported her all the way.

George himself decided not to take the educational benefits of the GI Bill. If anybody asked why he's not taking it, he always said proudly "Becca is the smart one. She's smart enough for both of us." He decided to take the business loans instead and started his own maintenance consultancy at his hometown.

* * *

 **How to Win Your Future in-Laws & Influence Your Partner's Siblings**

When George finally met Becca's parents, it's been three months since they set their foot in the US soil. During those three months, Becca's parents, especially her mother, relentlessly 'introduced' Becca with various 'eligible bachelors'. The most memorable encounters were as follows:

Bachelor A: an heir of one steel magnate who (stupidly) bragging that his dad bribe the Army so he's not drafted. Said bachelor went home with his (allegedly super expensive) white suit drench in half-bottle of red wine, courtesy of Miss Rebecca Jones's 'clumsiness'.

Bachelor B: a divorced Army Officer ("He had an impressive arrays of ribbons on his chest, Becca. It's very pretty." "Service medals, Mother. And it's not supposed to be pretty." "Whatever. It's colorful. And do not thump your head on your desk, Becca. It's not proper for a Lady!" "I'm not a fricking Lady, Mother!" "Language!"), who also an heir (surprise…surprise…) of some chemical industrialist from New Jersey. Said officer turned out to be…lo and behold…Captain Lewis Nixon. Becca and the Captain were immensely enjoying Mrs. Jones's shocked face (and scandalized, in appropriate time) when they burst out laughing remembering and retelling George's shenanigans in Europe to an amused (and sometimes confused) Mr. Jones.

Bachelor C: a pompous (but rich) ass who claimed he's in first name basis with half of Hollywood stars. His speech was mixed of English and French, since, he claimed, that he grew up in Paris. But his accent was so bad, every time he speaks French, Becca wanted to shove a baguette so far down his throat that he shits croissants.

After the tenth Bachelor, Mrs. Jones finally admitted defeat and begrudgingly willed to meet George. Mr. Jones himself had still not decided anything, but after a lengthy talk with Colonel Sink (and shiny endorsement about George's positive quality), he decided that he will only threatened George with his pistol, not his shot gun, and he'll try to do it as subtle as possible. It's a progress.

There were some memorable events when George met the Jones for the first time:

1\. The Introduction

"So you must be George"

"I am, Sir. Pleased to meet you, Sir…and Ma'am"

"Hmmh…Come inside. We can talk in my office. Where I put my _guns and pistols_."

2\. The Interrogation…in which Mr. Jones did this while cleaning his pistols in front of George.

"Education?"

"I'm a high school dropout, Sir. I got to help my parents. And then I joined the military."

"No plan to finished it?"

"Maybe after I settled my business."

"If you opened your business in Warwick, how about Becca's education and future career?"

"Becca and I have talked about this. It's up to her, actually. If she choose to take her master and maybe doctorate, in Harvard, I'll move here…no big deal. It's only two hours' drive from Warwick anyway so I can still visit my parents. Or she can continue her study and then teach at Brown."

"You are…very serious with Becca…don't you…Do you think you're worthy of a wife like my daughter, George?" Mr. Jones asked blandly.

"Never worthy, but ever hopeful….I love her, Sir. I'll do anything for her. I thought I've lost her in Bastogne and that's a feeling I hope I would never have to experience again." George said, and means it with everything he has.

Mr. Jones put his pistol in the table and took a deep breath. He looked up to the ceiling with unshed glassy eyes and then exhaled with a small smile. "Now I know you do love her, son. And I hope you know that…I'm grateful for it. She's my little Princess. She's my everything."

George gave him a small smile. "If you give your blessing, Sir…She'll be my Princess too."

Mr. Jones gave a small laugh "I'm pretty sure both of you would elope if I didn't give you my blessing."

George shrugged "No, Sir. I would never marry her without your blessing. If it took years to convince you, I'll do it."

"You're ready for any outcome, aren't you?"

"I came prepared for the worst, but pray for the best, Sir."

"Spoke like a true soldier. And it's Harold, by the way." Mr. Jones smiled.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"You can call me Harold. Welcome to the family, George."

"Th….Thank you? I mean…Holy Sh…God…Holy God..Thank you, Si…Sorry…I mean…Harold."

"Good…now let me put these pistols on the save and then I'll give you a tour of my house…well…it's going to be your house too. Oh…did Becca tell you I have a monkey?"

...

It took another four months, twenty three bouquets of flowers, ten pans of Mrs. Luz's special caldo verde and feijoada and a lot of sweet talking to make Mrs. Jones gave her blessing. But it's worth every effort of it.

Becca's meeting with George's parents was a lot more….well…His parents were very welcoming and immediately hugged Becca, so there's no need to convince or bribe the future in-laws in the first place. George's oldest sister, Jane, quickly took Becca's arm and said "As his oldest sister, it's my duty to show you around the house and point out the various photos of George pre-puberty, especially his naked baby photos. He got lots of it. A perk of becoming the first born, I guess." she said solemnly, pulling Becca along through the house.

Becca giggled "Oh, please do. I want to see all of the photos." And added "For research purposes, of course." when George's emitting a high frequency whelp of panic.

His other sister, Maria, piped in "Ooooh, I love you already, Becca. You can use it as blackmail material. Believe me. Those photos are that precious."

George sputtered "That's not funny, girls."

Maria scoffed "Of course it's not funny to you. Because it's revenge….for all those embarrassing time when you're threatening our boyfriends."

Well…just like George himself said in Austria…Karma's a bitch.

* * *

 **The Greatest Wedding Day in the World**

When George Luz stood at the altar, waiting for his bride, he kept repeating to himself "This is real. Don't pass out. Don't fuck this up."

Frank, his best man, pat his shoulder and whispered "Hey…You're gonna be fine."

"You don't forget the ring do you?" George whispered back.

"Do you think I will forget my best friend's wedding ring?"

George raised one of his eyebrows.

"Jeesh…I have it, okay. I got your back, buddy."

"Thanks, Frank."

And then the music changed and the audience stood up. Becca walked down the aisle, escorted by her father. George blinked once. Because…Holy Shit! How can she be this beautiful?! She looked amazing. Her eyes immediately locked with George's and she smiled. George decided that a smiling Becca should be illegal. It was bad for the health (especially George's heart because it's started to beat erratically) and, y'know, public safety and stuff.

He barely heard the pastor said anything because he only focused on Becca, until Frank nudged him and there were awkward silence…Oh right. George had to said something…what was it? Oh Shit…Right…the Vows.

George took a deep breath, to calm his nerves and said clearly "I George, take you, Rebecca, to be my lawfully wedded wife and partner in life. I'll let you beat me in chess as many time as you want, because I love you and will do anything for you. You will always come first, and of course, if you don't for whatever reason, I will buy you some shoes. You're the breath in my lungs, the blood in my heart, the bone under my flesh. You bring light when I'm in darkness. You put me together when I'm broken. You're my other half and now I'm whole."

Becca blinked back her tears and started her vow "I promise I will love you even if you're not perfect. You may be broken, but I love all the pieces that you've put back together. I promise I will be there for you always, to see things that no one else can, to know things about you that no one else does and to never ever think less of you even with that knowledge. It's the least I can do, because from the moment you entered my world, you have filled it with life, color, and energy like never before. For this is my promise to my one true love and partner for life."

And when George and Becca had their first kiss (modestly, because it's awkward to kiss in front of the statue of Jesus) as a married couple in front of God, country and Frank's exaggerated retching sound, on the corner of his eyes, George could see that their parents teared up a little, while Joe and Bill cried like a bitch in their seats, like big softies they were.

The reception that followed was a blast. Mr. Jones insisted to pay the whole thing, include the open bar. George had a suspicion that a lot of Easy Co. came due to this reason. After the obligatory humiliate-the-groom speech by the best men, other speeches, and obligatory dances, Becca and George finally can mingle with their friends.

George, in later life, particularly regretted his decision to come over his friend's table.

"Hey, George! Your Father-in-law got some good shit on the bar. Have you drink any? You fucked up, yet?" Frank said. His eyes red.

"Unlike you miserable shitheads, I can handle my alcohol." George said while watching Christenson made a run towards the toilet, surely to making out with it.

"George…do you think you can introduce me to one of Becca's friend? I think she just winked at me." Babe said eagerly.

"Which one?" George said.

"The one in the bar with pink dress." Babe said.

"Oh…Clara…well…hate you tell you, kid. But she's quite…um…famous…for…um…let's just say her ass had been in the air more than a C-47 at this point."

"Just don't forget your…prophylactic kit, Heffron. Maybe Talbert can give you some spare." Doc said.

"Will do, Doc." Babe grinned.

George shook his head "Babe…when will your brain start to do the thinking instead of your dick?"

Babe shrugged "Unlike Joe over here, I'm still in my twenties. Sue me."

Joe shouted "Hey…I'm still fucking young, kid. I'm just more mature."

The table scoffed in unison "Mature…"

Joe muttered "Assholes…"

"So…" Bill said calmly "I'm pretty sure you'd know what to do tonight? I'm talking about….make an honest woman out of Becca."

"Yeah…De-virginized your wife." Babe grinned. Bill laughed and patted Babe on the back like that'll do, pig. That'll do.

"Put the key in the slot." Frank supplied.

"Did the horizontal tango." Toye nodded. His hands gesturing said activity.

"F-U-C-K-I-N-G." Joe winked.

"A small town in Austria." Web said. When the table went silent and they all looked at him in confusion, he explained "No…really, Fucking is a small town in Austria. Look it up on a map."

Joe slapped his head.

"Technically" Doc said flatly but his eyes glinted with mischief, "it's when you insert your erect penis to her va-"

"Ookaaaayyyy…Stop it!" George sputtered. He looked seriously constipated.

Bill stood up, leaning on one of his crutches and hold up a glass of champagne, leading a toast with his booming voice "To our glorious George Luz, who tonight shalt lay the Rebecca of Jones."

And that's how George left his friends that were the epitome of grade A human idiocy.

But he loved them anyway.

* * *

 **Assisting a Woman in Childbirth for Dummies**

B = Becca, F = Frank, E = Evelyn (Frank's wife), G = George

B: "This is all your fault!"

F: "Do not yell at me!"

B: "I'm not yelling! I'm saying words forcefully!"

F: "Semantics! And I'm not the one who got you pregnant, Becca! How's this my fault?!"

B: "You're this baby's godfather and since you're the closest thing of a father figure right now, you'll take the blame!"

F: "I'm not the godfather yet. The baby hasn't even born."

E: "Don't argue with a woman in labor, Frank honey. And I permit you to do anything to him, Becca. He missed that chance when Richard was born."

F: "I wasn't there because I was in the middle of the war, woman!"

E: "Revenge is sweet, husband dear."

F: "You supposed to be on my side! You're my wife, for God's sake!"

B: "Just shut up and let me grip your hand until George's here, Frank!"

F: "But…but…I bruise easily."

G: "What…Where...Becca? Are you okay?!"

B: "Oh George, thank God. You're dismissed, Frank. Go away. My husband's here."

F: "Somehow…I'm feeling used."

G: "Becca…Princess….oh…honey…are you okay? Hey...don't give me your 'ya think?!' face. I just got here."

E: "You'd better hurry take her to the hospital, George. It's about twenty minutes since her first contraction and about five minutes since the water broke. No need to worry…Frank and I will keep the house while both of you're in the hospital."

G: "Thank you. Where the fuck – "

B & E: "Language!"

G: "Sorry…sorry…where's that frickin' suitcase? Ah here it is…okay…we're ready to go. Oh...Frank…can you please call Becca's parents. The number is beside the phone and don't forget to feed Brunhilda. She'll scratch my favorite coach when she's hungry."

F: "I still can't believe they named the cat Brunhilda."

* * *

 **When Bad Things Happen to Good People**

I'm happy to see my friends had a good life when I couldn't. Seeing them followed their dream, got married and have family, it's like I was living vicariously through them. I consider myself lucky. My death was not painful. I just saw bright light and then I was on the other side. My only regret was that I didn't say a proper goodbye in my last letter to Faye.

Watching my friends' lives was like watching a very good movie. I was glad to see Captain Winters and Nixon still best buddies. I was there when Bill finally proposed to Frannie. I saw Bill and Babe still joined in the hip, causing ruckus in South Philly. I was beside Malark's bed when he had nightmare, tried to whisper that it's only a dream, that he's safe with his family and that we will meet again when the time's come. I saw my friends got children as menace as they were back in the day. I was there in each reunion that Bill organized. I watched George's wedding where almost all Easy Company were there. I missed all of them.

The only thing I don't really like was when I was assigned by the Big Boss to come after my friend. Especially, when I felt it's too early for them to left their world. My first assignment was to pick up Web. When I met him, he's smiling at me and at the ocean that surrounded him. He looked content.

He said "How are you, buddy? How's the life on the other side? By the way…nice jacket. I don't know an angel can wear one. Is it green or grey?"

I smiled "Its olive. I'm following the latest fashion but still maintaining that paratrooperly look."

Web laughed "Well…I'll ask a black leather jacket then."

I nodded "Tell that to the Big Boss. You want to see your family first before we go?"

He smiled sadly but he shook his head "My life was great. I have a nice family. I published a book about shark. I even sent one copy to Joe to rub him off." He laughed "I think I'm ready."

I smiled "Come on then…Hoobler's waiting for us."

I took his hand and lead him into the light.

Web's memoir about our time in the war was founded by a historian, Stephen Ambrose. He published it and then wrote another book about Easy Company. I hope the younger generation will learn a lot from our experience and not let a horror that was the Nazi to resurface ever again.

When it's my time to pick up George, it's Thursday October 15th, 1998. Even he's already 77 years old, he's still working as a maintenance consultant. That morning, he kissed Becca at the door "See ya later, Princess. I think I'll beat you in chess tonight."

Becca laughed "Keep hoping, Frog."

George kissed Becca's forehead once again "Always the smart one. What could I do without you?"

Becca smiled "Same question to you too."

If only they know that would be their last time together.

In the afternoon, when George finally could see me, he's standing, looking at the crowds that surrounded a heavy industrial dryer on the ground. His body was underneath it.

I put my hand on his shoulder "George."

He turned around and smiled sadly "I just wish I said 'I love you' to Becca and the kids."

"She knows. You children know."

"I'm not ready leaving them. Do we have to leave now?"

"You want to stay for a while? I can talk to the Big Boss so you can stay at least until they bury you."

"That will be enough. Thanks, Skip."

"Anytime, buddy."

George's buried three days later. In his remembrance at the funeral home, there was a line down the street of 1,600 people waiting to pay their respects, including a lot of Easy Company men.

George stayed beside Becca all the time, whishing he could touch her. His children found his medals, of which they had no prior knowledge. When they asked Becca why Becca and George never said that their father was a war hero, she said "Your father never felt that he's a hero. His friends who never come back are."

Captain Winters gave a moving eulogy.

Bill and Frank walked besides the pallbearers.

Becca and her children were the last one who stayed at the veteran cemetery after George's buried. She sat on the ground, not crying anymore but held the American flag tightly on her chest.

"Can I be the one who come after Becca when her time is come?" George said to me, watching her.

"Yes…you can…Come on, George…It's time."

George watched his family for the last time and then took my hand.

He whispered "See ya later, Princess. I love you."

Before the light took us, I could hear Becca whispered.

"See you later, Frog. I love you."

-FIN-

* * *

Finally finished...

Thank you for all your reviews, favorites and followings. You guys made keep writing.

See ya in another story.


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